Aria e Memoria Breath and Memory
by Iorhael
Summary: Chap 16 Merry is Maytime. COMPLETE. Frodo bathed him, lulled him, coddled him, but what Merry saw was different.
1. Default Chapter

Aria e Memoria (Breath and Memory)

An eighth LOTR fic by Iorhael

AN:

1. Again, I would like to express my gratitude to everybody who has spared their time reading and leaving encouraging messages to _Nasty Hobbitsess_.  This sequel is dedicated to you all.

2. I got many great friends that I really treasure from posting stories here, MBradford, Krista, Endymion, Blue Jedi Hobbit, JohnLennonAcrosstheUniverse, AndysPrincess, FrodoBaggins87 – to name a few.  Please don't be mad if you don't find your name here.  You're still treasured!

3. I got my inspiration for this sequel and its title from a great piece of a song by Alessandro Safina.

**ARIA E MEMORIA (BREATH AND MEMORY)  
  
**

Vive il ricordo

Di quell primo momento

Magico incontro

In un giorno di vento

E le parole che

Non ho trovato mai

Come per miracolo

Per te le trovai

Io ti chiamai passione

Incanto ed armonia

Parole antiche

Parole nuove

Venute da chissa dove

Ti dissi che sei un sogno

Che sempre sognero

Tu sei aria e memoria

E sempre ti amero

Aria e memoria

E storia di una storia

Respiro e sento

Che tu mi vivi dentro

E l'infinito adesso

Esiste e so cos'e

E saper amare come io amo te

Ti chiamero passione

Incanto ed armonia

Parole in piena

Che come un fiume

Si gettereanno nel cuore

To parlero d'amore

Finche non dormirai

Sarai aria e memoria

Non mi lasciare mai

Vivid memories  
Of that first moment  
Magical encounter  
On a stormy day  
And the words  
I'd never before found/lost to me 'til then  
Came to me for you like a miracle  
  
  


I called you passion  
Enchantment and harmony  
Old words  
New words  
Came from nowhere  
I told you you were a dream  
That I shall always dream  
You are my breath and my memory  
And I will always love you  
  
Breath and memory  
A tale within a tale  
I breathe and feel  
Your life in mine  
Eternity dawns since my love for you  
Has shown me what love really is  
  
  


I will call you passion  
Enchantment and harmony  
Words with meaning  
Flowing through my heart  
Like a river  
I will talk to you of love  
Until you slumber  
You will be my breath and memory  
Please don't leave me.

4. Last but not least, I'd like to make a confession.  There is someone behind all this that has always given me priceless words of encouragement ever since the first chapter of NH.  She is my primary reason to keep continuing NH and to keep on writing.  She is Emma.  (I think you knew that!)

Summary: Sequel to my first fic, Nasty Hobbitsess.  There will be a lot of winding healing processes here.

~ Prologue ~

I'm standing before a lengthy mirror, outstretched from the floor to the ceiling of my humble room.  The mirror, with its delicately sculptured, mahogany rim, feels out of place here.  Nothing in this tiny closet is as luxurious, sophisticated, and expensive-looking as this cheval glass.  There is only a mattress – no bed frame and certainly no bedside tables.  The mattress is lying in the left corner near the window – a window that is mostly kept shut as I can't stand the chilling wind.  A small, shabby drawer accompanies the bed in the right corner.

_In my opinion it would be much more appropriate and correct – **right** – that I should have the drawer moved to the left near the window and the mattress in the drawer's place.  But for such an arrangement I would unmistakably need someone to help me, as I would never be able to do it myself.  The drawer, no matter how shabby and dilapidated, is still too weighty for me.  I have no energy left for that.  I even have to force myself to get up from the mattress._

_But tonight I need all the effort to get up and get dressed as I've been summoned._

_This afternoon one of Merry's guards came over my room and told me that Merry would like to talk to me.  In private.  Swallowing hard, I could do nothing but comply.  It was an order anyway, not something that I was free to choose.  And correspondingly, I have been waiting for that, waiting to speak with Merry._

_It's been so long since I last saw him and although he has been kind enough to let me stay in one part of his quarters, keeping his own word not to leave me by myself, I can't help feeling abandoned by him.  Has he finally grown tired of me and… sated merely by possessing the Ring?  Will he forget me bit by bit?_

_And ever since the human guard left the room, I've raided my drawer, searching for something decent enough to wear.  But I've found nothing close to fair or even middling so far._

_I'm staring at piles of ragged, filthy clothes – if one can even call them clothes – in deep frustration and pull out the least soiled shirt.  I'm sure it used to be white but now it has more brownish stains than its original tone.  I spread it out to see its condition further, and with loud heaves I shake my head.  I surely can't wear it; the shirt has been completely tattered at the back.  I can't remember how it came to this condition but it pains me greatly to see it like that._

_I dig deeper and my hands and eyes rest upon another shirt which is grimier but still in one piece.  I wrench it out from the others, feeling slightly more hopeful, and hold it up to the mirror._

_I remove my similarly torn night shirt and put it on.  Just then I realize something is wrong with it.  I grin grimly at my reflection.  The shirt is not shredded but has lost all its buttons.  My eyes lock themselves on **me** in the mirror.  The grin slowly vanishes, replaced by the brimming of tears at the bottom edges of the **other** Frodo's eyes.  I close my eyes in anguish as I feel tears verging in my eyes too.  I wonder who has been so cruel as to tear this shirt apart.  I cannot recall when it happened and what came afterwards.  Involuntarily I tighten both hems to protect myself from the chill that materializes out of nowhere and … my nakedness._

_Loud, harsh knocks quake the door and send me back from my reverie.  My eyes fly open and I flee to the door, one of my hands still clasping at my shirt.  I open the door with a bit of impatience.  Will it be Merry, who finally realizes that he has ignored me too long?_

_The door cracks open, leaving my mouth to gap widely as my eyes catch the sight of a figure standing in front of me, looking forlorn._

_"Samwise?"  I murmur shakily as it never crosses my mind that **he** is going to show up.  What is he doing here?  Where is Merry?_

_Then I ask Sam that very question, as I really, really miss my cousin._

_"Samwise, where is my Merry?"_

* * *

Sam could not believe what he was hearing.

_"Where is my Merry?"_

The question repeated over and over in his ears and his eyes shone questioningly, stuck to the pair of blanched, quivering lips from which the question had come.  Sam stared into a pair of once brilliant, but now subdued and dreary, eyes, and into a face so fair it looked almost ethereal.

The lips once again shut entirely.

Eyes battened down, covered completely by pale lids.

Yet the face was still fair, delicate, and ethereal, despite the sudden, drastic drop of the body temperature.

Gasping audibly, the revelation struck Sam like a jolt of lightening.  Frodo was lost to him again!

Too shaken up by sorrow to do more urgent things – such as untying his master – Sam could only wrap himself around Frodo and sob quietly.

… until a warm hand fell heavily on his shoulder.

"Sam."  A low, husky voice called on him as if from a faraway place.  Sam raised his head and turned around.  Strider…  Aragorn.  Oh.

"Mr. Aragorn, Sir…"  Sam's subsequent words caught in his throat.  He could only gaze at the human helplessly.

"Come on, Sam."  Aragorn's voice softened.  "We should cut Frodo loose."

The hobbit nodded, numb with pain.

TBC

AN: Please review and tell me your expectations for this.  I'd really appreciate that.


	2. Thinking of You

AN: Sorry if it took me a bit long to update.  Enjoy!

Oddwen: Thanks!  I'm trying, oh, I'm trying.

aelfgifu: I'll check the setting.  Btw, I have a lot of things in my mind.  But why is it so hard to put it on paper??

Shire Baggins: Thank you for reviewing!  Compassion for Merry?  Does he need one?  :)  

endymion: How's England?  'You will be my breath and memory'  Who is 'you'?  ^_^

FrodoBaggins87: I'm coming!  Thanks for all your reviews, dear!

Chapter 1 – Thinking of You 

Sam caught Frodo's body once Strider finished severing the ropes around the unconscious hobbit's wrists and upper arms, releasing Frodo from the column.  Sam staggered backward as Frodo slumped on his body, resting his chin on Sam's right shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and arms hanging limply on both sides.  And Sam gasped at the chills he suddenly felt radiating from Frodo.

"Aragorn!"  Sam cried out softly.  But help did not come from the ranger.  A pair of elves who had caught the sight of a bound form quickly grabbed several blankets and one carefully draped it over Frodo's shoulders, and gently tugged the weakened form from Sam's embrace.  Reluctantly Sam let go of his master, knowing that Frodo was in good hands.

Frodo sank to the elf's outstretched arms, blanket quietly arranged so it fully protected his body, covering all the bruises, cuts, and stains of dried blood.  And all those ribs that were sticking out of the terribly lanky body, Sam thought bitterly.  And no matter how thick the blankets were, the elf had no difficulty in carrying Frodo, not seemingly burdened by his underweightness at all.

Sam strode in small paces, trying to follow the half-running elves and Aragorn to the closest bedroom from the balcony.  He could only watch as the three uncovered Frodo – Sam almost shouted his protest at this but he could not – and applied some salve to Frodo's hands, feet, and chest.  Standing in silence, the gardener guessed that that was probably a more effective way to warm Frodo.

Aragorn kept on rubbing Frodo's skin, more vigorously in each single moment, and then stopped, leaving the room.  The other beings continued doing that.

Sam watched the ranger's retreat questioningly.  He did not dare raise his voice to ask anything, though.  Strider had looked so serious and determined.  Sam did not want to disturb him; he knew Aragorn would do anything to rouse Frodo from his fog of unconsciousness.

And the wide, wooden door was swung open as Strider pushed and went through it, with his rucksack slung across his body and a basin of water in his hands.

"Elrond and Gandalf will be coming right on," his hoarse voice echoed through the entire room, telling the elves who were still sitting each by Frodo's side on the bed, from where he was standing in front of the hearth.  Then Strider turned to Sam and called him to come.

"Help me make the fire, Sam, and put this basin on it to boil the water.  Athelas will be of any help, I hope."

"Athelas, sir?"  Sam frowned at the unfamiliar name while lighting the woods.  In just a short time blue fire was dancing inside the hearth, reminding Sam of the warm fire in the cozy living room of Bag End.

"King's foil," replied Strider absentmindedly.

"King's foil!" shouted Sam.  At last, a name he knew well.  "But… but that's a kind o' weed.  How can that help Mr. Frodo?"

Aragorn reached into his bag and pulled out several leaves of the said herb.

"Here, put them into the basin and let them be cooked.  Athelas is very good as a healing herb."

"Healing…" muttered Sam while carefully dipping the leaves.  A slight of despair in his voice as his eyes now flew to the still figure in the bed.  Frodo was now wrapped in the blankets again from his neck to the feet, only his head visible.  And on that fair face was, Sam gulped, a vaguely crimson gash on the left cheek, the only color left against ashen skin.  Even the lips that had been bluish had turned colorless.  And Frodo's curly eyelashes almost drowned in the folds of the skin below his eyes as the hobbit tightly closed his eyes.  Sam wondered what was behind those shut orbs, images of…  Merry?

"… that's what he really needs.  Healing.  Or even magical power.  I just hope one of them can bring Frodo back."

Strider patted Sam gently in the arm.

"Don't give up hope.  Frodo will return to us, I promise."

Gurgling sounds came from the boiling water in the basin, sending the two back from their reveries.  Strider stood up, took out a piece of wide cloth from his bag and brought the heated basin carefully to Frodo's bed.  Sam tailed him closely.

"How is he?" Strider queried the two elves.  One of them nodded.

"The salve works well.  The little one is improving a lot," he replied while watching Strider placed the container on the bedside table.

The ranger then poured some portions of the water into a pot provided there.  "We will need this later," he said.  Next he immersed another, smaller cloth and squeezed it dry, dabbing it to Frodo's cheeks and the rest of his face.  The warmth from the towel felt soothing and Frodo relaxed visibly.

Strider's action was actually meant to tend to the wound and to help warm Frodo.  But in the end Strider had also cleared the filthiness that seemed soiled his face face.  Frodo might look even paler now but his fairness and beauty definitely stood out.

Once again the ranger dipped the soft material into the water and this time placed it across Frodo's brow.  More warmth and comfort flowed into Frodo without him realizing it.

***

The first thing Elrond did after he was released from the barn was to get to Frodo immediately and heal him.  Things Elrond had witnessed or heard from Merry's very own mouth had made him cringe in horror…things about what had come upon the overpowered Ringbearer and what would still probably come…

But Mithrandir – Gandalf – had calmed him down and told him that Frodo was under the care of his stepson, Estel.  Taking a deep breath, Elrond forced himself to let them be.  He trusted Estel and although the man, also known as Strider, would not mind his offer to help Frodo, Elrond believed in his capability and decided to take care of other urgent matters.  One of them was Merry.

***

Something was missing.  Something big.  Something that was once occupying almost all of him, an entirety of him, in his mind and heart.  And he blamed no one.  No one but Frodo Baggins… and himself.

Had he known everything would end up like this, he would never have brought the cursed cousin all the way here.  He would just discard him anywhere he could, leaving him starving and cold, leaving him to die.  Or he would just let Pippin drown him in that river in the woods.  Either way, the ranger and Sam and the other man would find the remains of Frodo and cease their journey.

He had thought Frodo would help him make those elves bow to him by his threats to hurt the former Ringbearer even more.

But who might have guessed that everything would be ruined, his plan destroyed.  Curse all the men and orcs and their wargs!  Instead of helping him, they turned their backs on him.

And now powerless and supine, Merriadoc Brandybuck could do nothing but twist against the gripping hands that dragged him along the corridor to the most remote area of Elrond's house.  Merry had tried hard to reach into his pocket but those merciless grasps pressed both his arms to his back.  He almost broke into laughter, though, imagining how these creatures that surpassed him in size had to work so hard to restrain him.  How funny!

Yet, it did not seem funny anymore as Merry heard a thundering voice behind him.

"The Ring always has its own peculiar ways in abandoning its _false_ masters.  Do not fight and try to take It anymore, Master Meriadoc, for it would be useless.  The Ring has chosen to leave you."

Merry planted his heels in full determination and turned around.  There was still power left in his body and the elves should feel grateful that their hold was strong enough.

Merry glared at Gandalf.  So that was the answer!  That was where the lost feeling came from.  The Ring had slipped away, snatching along a part of Merry with It.  Yet denial still came forth.

"The Ring did _not_ choose to abandon me!  You took It from me!  Give It back!  Give It back at once!"

Gandalf looked at Merry closely.  Sorrow shadowed his face.

"Frodo would have been stronger than you."

Merry realized Gandalf must mean Frodo's resistance toward the Ring. Nevertheless, the statement sounded comical to him.  With glints in his eyes, the hobbit found this absolutely amusing, for what crossed his mind was the broken, wretched Frodo.  Certainly not strong at all.  Merry started to giggle, and finally broke into thunderous chortle, before being severely cut by Gandalf's icy and threatening glare.  Gandalf gave the wretched hobbit a second stare with bristled brows.  Merry turned away in fear, and the wizard stomped away in both disgust and sorrow.  

Merry felt weakened all of a sudden, and let the elves continue carrying him away to an unseen place and unknown fate.

***

But his cousin was so true.  Frodo was nothing but a hollow shell, completely stripped off of the Frodo he used to be.

Frodo did not imagine himself being in a room anymore, waiting helplessly for Merry to spare some time with him.  He, who was unwanted by all people he knew - friends, parents, kin,  who had to be thankful for the only person who still wanted to save him the slightest bit of attention.

But no.  Frodo was not there, but he could not tell where he actually was.  This place was a mere void.

But it was not a cold one like the place where he used to be.  Frodo sensed pleasing warmth spring from every tip of his fingers and toes and spreading throughout his body and to his face as well.

The void altered deliberately, the vacant place starting to have walls, drawers, couch table, bed…  Frodo waited, glancing around in suppressed apprehension; afraid that the room would turn to the one he had before, when he was waiting for Merry…

***

Sam watched with growing hope as Frodo began to thrash, shaking his head so the towel from his brow fell away.

"No, no," Frodo whispered, almost inaudibly.  His eyes moved restlessly beneath the thin lids.  Sam wondered what Frodo was dreaming about.  _Was it about Merry again?_

Frodo twisted harder, now that the elves came forth, holding his shoulders and legs.

_"They got me!  Those big folks are trying to hurt me again!"_

Frodo was drowning in his own imagined misery.  He fought hard to get away from the darkening shadow around him.  Frodo tried to open his eyes as he did not realize that they were closed all this time.  Breathing heavily, Frodo attempted to lift his lids that felt so heavy as if stones were upon them.  And…

_OH!!!_

They were indeed big folks, but they were not restraining him with pieces of rope he had imagined before.  They were holding him, indeed, fast.

And there was somebody else.  Somebody that had also appeared in his dreams, but he did not welcome him well.  Not that he did not want to - he had just been afraid.  And he still was.

TBC

**_My greatest thanks to aelfgifu!_**

'm still trying to find the best form of the story.  Please read and review!


	3. Waking

Chapter 2 – Waking 

Sam stood still at the foot of the bed, observing silently his master's awakening and his effort to raise himself up to a sitting position.  It felt as if thousands of needles were jarring into his heart from every direction, though at one time Sam also felt as if the wounds they caused were gushed down by a bucket full of cold water.  Relief.  Joy.  His master was back!  Frodo had returned.

And he was all right.

All right.

Safe.

A little weak, mayhap.  But he would soon recover.

Wouldn't he?

The cold water gradually washed out, leaving the wounds in Sam's heart open, raw, and bleeding.  The small consolation from knowing that Frodo had finally regained his consciousness left Sam exactly that – a consolation.  Nothing more.  And nothing to celebrate.

As he soon found out how empty Frodo's eyes were.  Neither sorrow nor happiness.

Although previously, when Frodo opened his eyes for the first time, Sam could swear he saw a glimpse of surprised gladness in those eyes.  But then it was replaced by doubts, and later, by fear.

Then nothing.

Frodo simply sat down, leaning with his back against headboard, hands clutching the blanket tightly, shuddering.  Sam could see his whole body shaking.

Yet, he could also see that Frodo's eyes never left him.  His master was completely ignoring the other beings present around him.

Ignoring the elves and Aragorn as well, Sam slid to one side of the bed, one hand passing lightly over Frodo's bed sheet.

"Mr. Frodo?"  Sam could not help shaking, too.  "Don't you remember?  It's me, your Sam."

A sudden panting breath stopped Sam's movement.  Frodo was glaring at him now, in horror.  He pulled up the cover even higher, his lips open for a silent cry.  Sam turned to Aragorn in despair and he saw an almost unrecognizable head shake from the ranger.

* * *

He had never regretted something as deeply as this.

He had awakened from a long, deep slumber and opened his eyes to find the sight of someone who dearly reminded him of the comfort and warmth of Bag End, Sam.  He had almost jumped into the arms of the gardener if only he would not have felt so weak, and poured all the miseries he had gone through.

But then his memories all came back to him, like a hard rain in the first night of summer.

For that his heart lamented.

Why should he remember the time when all this nightmare begun?  When he witnessed Pippin, of all people, had struck Sam so hard that the gentlest person he knew sprawled down to the ground and lay there motionless?

Even when later on he found that by some miracle Sam was not dead by the blow, he once again had to see his gardener lie unconscious.  This time, he was sure, the blame was on the scruffy-looking ranger he had despised ever since.

Again Frodo wept inside.  If only he had been allowed to disremember all those things, he would not have had to force himself to see the approaching figure as a ghost.

Yes.  A ghost from the past, that had always been with him.

… amongst the thrashes of Merry's belt, delivered upon him because he was too stubborn to see the truth.

"Sam, oh Sam.  I'm tired, Sam.  Bring out of here.  Please."

_"Sam?!"_

_"I'm not Sam, Frodo!  I'm Merry!  M E R – R Y!  MER – I – A – DOC!"_

_"Merry?"_

_"Yes, me!  I'm the only friend you have, Frodo!  Not that lowly gardener of yours who's been rotting in the ground for days.  You have to accept that!"_

_Crack!_

_ "No, Merry.  Pleeaassee--"_

_"Who is your friend, Frodo?!"_

_Who is your friend!"_

Frodo did not flinch anymore now though the memory of the pain was still as vivid as when the punishment was being executed.  He understood it now, its aim and reason.  Frodo did not feel anything, not even regret.  His _sound_ thoughts had successfully dispatched it.

Not even when the _ghost_ was slowly approaching him.

But not when the _ghost_ started to speak.

It was as if a soul had returned home, reoccupying the vacant shell once more.

Frodo grasped his blanket fast until his knuckles turned white.  It spoke!  _Sam_ spoke!

_"Mr. Frodo?_

Frodo could not believe his ears.  The ghost even knew his name.  It _mentioned _his name!

"Don't you remember?  It's me, your Sam."

No!  NO!  Frodo opened his mouth and he just… screamed at Sam's face.

_Can't!  A ghost can't speak, let alone remember names!_

And he could not be mistaken.  Sam had truly died.  He could not be alive.  Merry could NOT lie to him, telling that Sam was dead when actually was not.

Then, starting everyone in the room, Frodo bolted out of the blanket and dashed to a corner.  Like a trapped animal, he planted himself there, both his palms pressing at the wall behind.

"Go away you evicted spirit!  Don't you haunt me any more from your death realm!  Go in peace and leave me!"  Frodo's voice croaked from long disuse.  And it got even hoarser when he continued screaming as Sam, frozen in his steps, kept on staring at Frodo.

"You are dead!  Dead!"  Frodo wailed in despair.  And in his frustration for not being able to drive Sam away, he slid down the wall and perched himself on the floor.  Frodo brought both hands to his face and started sobbing.

"Oh, Merry!  Please.  Help me."

* * *

Merry rolled over on his back.  He neither heard Frodo's trembling cry for help nor felt it in his heart.  He was still trapped inside the shadow – the shadow of the Ring that gladly engulfed whoever was weak and willing enough to submit to its dominion.

Nor did Merry understand why he was still treated kindly.

The two elves did nothing to harm him when they brought him to this room.  Being stunned by Gandalf's sharp tongue and eyes, Merry had almost lost all the nerve he previously believed that he – had.  His knees had weakened and he had hardly been able to stand for more rough handlings.  But even without anyone saying it, the elves seemed to know what was in the depth of Merry's mind.  They did not drag him along their way.  They simply too Merry by the arms, almost gently, and led the way.  Merry could almost even see the action as a kind of support for him.

And along their course, none had spoken a word.  Especially Merry.  He kept silent, almost paying no heed as to where they were going.  His eyes did not see and his mind did not register anything as they went past the Hall of Fire, taking a right turn and going across the courtyard to find the entrance to another dwelling compound.  The switch from light to dim surroundings inside the compound almost escaped Merry's mind as well, until finally they got to a room at the rear of the place and the elves kindly ushered Merry inside.  

The hobbit vaguely heard them tell him what they had in the room – bed, drawers, and water in basin for Merry to clean himself.  Merry just shrugged when they asked if he needed anything further.  Having nothing else to do, the elves retreated and left Merry alone after carefully closing the door and locking it securely – the only sign that Merry was indeed a prisoner.

Huffing loudly, Merry eased himself to the bed and lay there quietly, arms folded behind his head.  He could not understand those elves.  He could not care less of what happened to Frodo.  And he hardly thought of Gandalf anymore.

It was the Ring that he brooded about.

TBC

AN: I'm really sorry for the lateness.  Blame it on the bunnies that keep on coming to my mind.  Expect another new story from me!  :)  Again, thanks for EMMA for betaing this.  (Emma, where is the continuation of RATM??)

And now for the reviews!

Celandine: Thank you for reading it!  Again, I'm sooooo amazed to read your alternative chapter on RATM.  So details, so intense.  You should start your own fic!

endymion2: I'm glad you're still following it.  And I always try to make it always interesting.  It's hard, sometimes, but as long as I know there are still people out there to read it, I'll keep going!

altariel: I also like it that you like it!  LOL.  Well, it's not only Estel that takes care of the healing in the later chapters.  Give more protagonism to Sam?  I will!

FrodoBaggins87: He will return, but will he completely?  I don't know myself.  Thanks again for coming by!

Trust No One: Ah, thanks for reading it although you haven't read NH.  That's what I'm afraid about sequels.  Once you don't read the previous story, you won't read the sequel.  But you're not like that, so thank you very much!


	4. Lies

Chapter 3 – Lies

Frodo's wails came over and over, bouncing back and forth within the four walls of the healing chamber.  The pathetic low cries seemed to seep into every being present there, Sam – the one most affected by it, Aragorn, and the two elves.  They stood as if entrenched to the marble floor, mesmerized by the curled up figure whose bare back leaned hard against the glass wall.  And still no one moved even after Frodo's wails had turned to silent sobs - the up and down movements of the hobbit's shoulders revealing his weeping as he held his hands over his face.

It was Sam who first broke from his trance.

The gardener turned and looked up at Strider, sending an unspoken question through his small, hazel eyes.  He simply did not understand.  His mind could not grasp what had happened that could turn his master into this piteous creature.  Sam knew Frodo had been held captive by his own cousin, Merry, but why did Frodo think him an apparition?  Had not Frodo recognized him when he found him bound to one of the pillars in the balcony?

And there was a slight of shame flashing through Sam's mind to see a fellow hobbit brought so low, acting so shamelessly undignified and undone.  Sam glanced briefly at one human and two elves around him, gritting his teeth.  Mr. Frodo should have known better!  Even if Frodo had been tormented, Sam was sure the wounds would heal soon.

But then Sam noted Frodo's languid motions as he removed his hands from his face and wrapped them around his folded knees, all the while humming softly, rocking back and forth.  This all felt like a harsh slap across Sam's face.  Ashamed?  What had he been thinking?!  His Mr. Frodo had been hurt, and the scars went more than skin-deep.  How could Sam even think to be concerned of the Shire's pride?

Sam was squeezing his own hands, feeling his heart starting to bleed seeing how Frodo was still swaying slowly with his face resting helplessly on the knees, pressing his cheek, and his eyes staring unseeingly.

Sam moved forward, only to be stopped by Aragorn's warning tone.

"Be careful, Sam."

The hobbit gazed up, looking hurt.

"Of what?"  he snapped.  "It's not likely that I will hurt him, nor he me."

Aragorn sighed.

"That's not what I mean.  Frodo is just not in a condition where he knows people.  He can't even recognize himself," Strider said under his breath.

But Sam kept going.  And several steps before he got to Frodo, he knelt down.

And crawled slowly,

one hand reaching out

to stroke Frodo's curls that fell on his forehead.

Slowly.

Sam's doubtful movements almost froze, half waiting for Frodo's response.  He was ready to take back his hand should Frodo give even the smallest flinch.

Sam's breaths turned frazzled as moments went by.  Slowly.

But there was no sign whatsoever that indicated Frodo noticed the touch.  He was still rocking, still humming, still staring blankly.

And it was Sam that broke into tears.  He could not restrain himself any longer.  He closed the distance between his dear master and him, tenderly gathering Frodo's frail frame into his own, letting Frodo's face be buried deep into his chest.

"Frodo!  Oh, Mr. Frodo!  I'm really Sam.  Samwise!  And I'm not dead.  I'm not a ghost!"

He kissed Frodo's hair again and again, purposely ignoring its ill smell.

"I'm hugging you, Frodo.  I'm touching you.  You can feel me, can't you?  You can't feel a ghost, Frodo, but you can feel me for I'm not a ghost.  Don't you understand, Mr. Frodo?"

And for the first time Sam felt Frodo stiffen in his embrace.  Was it a good sign – or not?  Yet Sam did not care.  He still hugged Frodo, and rubbed the poor hobbit's back gently.  Sam's lips started chanting his master's name: _Frodo, Frodo._

Frodo was no longer staring.  He shut his eyes tightly now and his body began to grow limp.  A silent stream of tears slipped onto his cheek.

Again, no one seemed dare to disturb the serenity of the two hobbits entwined with each other.

Until suddenly

…the door was slammed open.

A tiny figure broke into the room as fast as a lightning, bolting out to Frodo, if not suddenly halted by Aragorn.

"Bilbo, wait!"  cried the ranger.  He realized Bilbo must have not known anything that had happened to Frodo.  Strider knew Bilbo had just arrived home from the north, visiting an elf family that were his friends.  That was also the reason why Bilbo had escaped the cruel treatment of Merry, the Isengarders, the orcs, and their wargs.

But on the other hand, Bilbo would pay no heed to Frodo's real condition and the fact that something horrible had happened to his beloved nephew, being blinded by his longing to see Frodo.

Aragorn grasped Bilbo's shoulders gently and steered him outside the room.

"You remember me, Bilbo?"  asked Aragorn silently.  "I'm Strider, a ranger that walked across the Shire."  He did not wait for Bilbo to remember him or not.  "Let's go out before I let you see Frodo.  I have something important to tell you."

"B-but…"  It was so typical of Bilbo not to yield easily.  "Why is Frodo crouching on the floor?  What's wrong with him?"

"That's part of what I'd like to tell you."  Strider forced himself to smile and after successfully leading Bilbo out of the room, he closed the door behind him quietly.

A moment later the heavy door hummed open, revealing two still figures standing in the gap it left behind.  Bilbo froze as if he were a statue, his face damp with traces of tears, both of his arms hanging stiffly at the sides of his body.  Bilbo's entire body screamed, commanding himself not to enter the room and backed away as far as possible.  But even that he was unable to do, for all the muscles he had had felt completely numb.

The story Aragorn had told him was the worst thing Bilbo had ever heard.  None of his adventures surpassed the cruelty of it.  And to think that it was all done by Merry, Frodo's own cousin.  Merry, of all people…

And now from this very door, Bilbo could see at the other side of the room, a hobbit that had been Frodo, seeming eerily passive in the hands of Samwise Gamgee, Hamfast's youngest son.

Aragorn, who was standing a little bit behind Bilbo, placed his palm on Bilbo's shoulder and pushed the hobbit deliberately.

"Let's go in, Bilbo," he said.  "Frodo needs you."

Bilbo found that the next steps he was about to take were the hardest ones.  Mixed feelings tussled up in his heart and thousands of _what if's_ popped up in his mind.  What if Frodo did not recognize him?  What if Frodo get mad at him?  What if Frodo suddenly attacked him?

And more questions drifted up, making the elderly hobbit feel dizzy.

But as Bilbo thought the terrible thoughts, without realizing it, he had walked up to where Frodo and Sam were sitting, between the bed and the window.  Sam gazed up, eyes sparkling both with remaining tears and with amazement of seeing Bilbo again.  He then turned back to Frodo, kissed the top of Frodo's head lightly, and whispered,

"I must go now, Mr. Frodo.  Mr. Bilbo is here.  He wants to see you too."

Sam let go of his master and leant him back on the window to stop him from falling over.  Frodo still held his legs but he no longer placed his head on them.  He looked straight on, never heeding Bilbo or anyone else in the room.  Perhaps not even Sam.

Bilbo strode forward, cupping Frodo's both cheeks in his hands, and lifting the face up, he looked forlornly at the pale features.

"Frodo…"  Bilbo choked.  His throat strangled.  His heart wrenched down.  Where was his vibrant, young cousin he used to know?  Bilbo felt like he were drowning in his own memories, struggling to find the slightest glimpse of Frodo in this pale and forlorn countenance.

Bilbo stroked Frodo's cheeks slowly with his thumbs, almost crying out in surprise as his finger rubbed over a long gash on the hobbit's right cheek, and spontaneously pulled his hands away from the face.  Bilbo stared at the healing wound in horror.

"What's this?"  His whisper came out bitterly.  Once again he traced the gash with his thumb, Frodo wincing slightly.  Bilbo froze.  "Does it hurt, Frodo?"  he pushed.  But his query only struck an empty stare.

Bilbo whipped his head to the side, unable to see Frodo a moment longer.  A pair of warm, brown eyes welcomed him.  Gandalf.

"Gandalf!"  Bilbo shouted and ran to the knelt-down wizard – something he immediately regretted as he came to realize how selfish he was, knowing Frodo's condition.

"My dear Bilbo," Gandalf said as he engulfed his old friend in a consoling manner.  "Be strong, Bilbo.  Be strong for Frodo."  

Gandalf patted Bilbo's back gently.  And while he was doing so, Gandalf's eyes strayed and caught Frodo watching him, observing him.  This time it was Gandalf who was stunned.  He ceased patting Bilbo at once as his mind whirled in wonder.  Had Frodo finally returned to himself?

Gandalf slowly disengaged himself from Bilbo, his hand fishing into a pocket inside his robe.  He pulled out a string of fine, silvery chain with something dangling from it.  The golden rays of the afternoon sun fell onto the trinket, making it glow even more.  The Ring.

"Have to return this to whom it belongs," he murmured, and moved toward Frodo.  In a very brief moment, Gandalf again thought the poor hobbit had came back as the wizard caught glints of every single feeling a person might have.  Fear.  Anger.  Sorrow.  Despair.  But when Gandalf wanted to make sure what he had seen, all those expressions vanished in a flash, replaced by the same, blank gape.  The wizard huffed loudly.

Gandalf then decided to set aside his disappointment and carry on with what he intended to do.  He raised his hands and placed the necklace over Frodo's head to slowly put it down until finally the Ring rested peacefully on the hobbit's naked breast.  Gandalf sighed in relief although deep down he was cursing.  Such a wicked thing!  In his eyes the Ring looked as if It were mocking everyone.  It seemed so atrociously meek.  So docile!

The wizard looked closely at Frodo to check his reaction.  But again, nothing came from the hobbit's mouth, neither acceptance nor objection.  Frodo indeed glanced briefly down at the cursed thing but a moment later he resumed his earlier act, rocking his body to and fro.

Frodo did not even seem to care when Gandalf bent down and gathered him in his arms, bringing him back to the bed.  Frodo still did not say anything when his erstwhile friend released his legs from his own gripping arms, straightening them, and spread the blanket over his body.

Desperate to find anything to grasp, Frodo promptly grabbed at the edges of the blanket and held them fast as if he would shred into pieces should he lose them again.

Frodo turned away from the many prying eyes that were hovering over him.  Suddenly he felt his own eyes warm with tears.  His body began to shake, his breaths turned ragged.  Frodo closed his eyes as emotion washed over him like a wave.

_"Lies.  These are all LIES!"  _His heart screamed in hysteria and profound misery.

TBC

aelfgifu: My greatest beta!  I'm sorry but I haven't added more Merry this time.  Next time, okay?  ^_^

illyria-pfyffin: It's not true that you _encumbered_ me by your writing.  I learn a lot from you.  You're a great writer!  About Merry… hmm, I guess he did his worst in NH.  Can't make him do more here.  :)

  
Nutmeg: My goodness!  I laughed the entire night reading your review!  That was so sweet in your own way, Meg!  (not AIA, for sure, LOL)  _'Frodo come back for pie?'_  OMG!!!  But you see now; I really updated!!

endymion2: I thank you for keeping reading it although my slow updates made it difficult to follow the story.  I'm so sorry!!  

Trust No One: I'm still honored to have you read and reviewed this.  You're such a great writer, too.  Please continue reading.

FrodoBaggins87: Here is my update – though still not soon enuf.  Look forward to hearing from you, honey!


	5. Scents

My dear reviewers –

Oddwen: You'll see more of Pippin here!  :)

Frodo Baggins87: More Frodo?  I will, I will!

endymion: whimpering state?  Frodo will be better, hopefully.  ^_^

Trust No One: For the time being, the Ring will have to hide from your sight first as Frodo…  Well, keep reading!

**Chapter 4 – Scents**

His breaths were heavy, his paces even heavier.  He desperately wanted to stop but he could not.  He must not!  And in the middle of his escape, his eyes fell on the things gathered in his arms.  Crops.  Carrots.  Potatoes.  Cabbages.  But then the shouts from behind jerked him back from his reverie.  Run!  He still had to run!

Merry eyed another running figure not far in front of him.  It was his cousin, Pippin, who also had piles of vegetables in his hands.  Merry remembered more carrots and ears of corns his cousin succeeded in snatching away before echoes of Farmer Maggots' cries bounced into the naughty hobbits' ears and sent them scurrying off the farmer's land.

Merry dared himself to stop for a while to catch a breath, and looking back, he was startled as he noticed the sickle the farmer was carrying.  Merry turned back again and resumed his flight.  The youngster had not got much chance to breathe, his nostrils only filled with scents of the wet field soil and fresh corn plants.  Not that he regretted it.  If Merry were not in the midst of running away, he would gladly stay at this place, enjoying the incredible sight of the vast field and the plants that were mostly taller than himself, and drawing as much as refreshing air of the vegetables into his lungs.  Merry grinned to himself while he was still rustling further, trying hard to will his growingly tired foot muscles to keep advancing.  He must stop this – well – bad habit, if he wanted to just enjoy the view.

_Must stop stealing._

_Must stop taking those delicious and juicy mushrooms._

_He must stop!_

_But how could he?_

_How could he live without …_

_Without those …_

_Those … what?_

BOOM!

_What on earth –_

"Frodo?  Merry!  It's Frodo Baggins."

Vaguely Merry caught the crisp voice of Pippin while he was struggling to get on his feet.  Merry took a breath sharply and broke into a grin.

"Hello Frodo!"

It was Frodo, indeed, who was fully clothed: vested and cloaked, and backpacked.  Merry went silent, drownin gin contemplation as he watched Sam pull his master up.

"Frodo?  Are you all right?"  Sam asked.

Merry saw the daze on Frodo's face and suddenly he smelled something beyond his cousin's sweet scented hair or the delectable fragrance of the vegetables.  It was an aroma of temptation, seducing Merry until he felt dizzy.  But Merry could not tell how it actually smelt like or where it came from.  Merry whipped his head to and fro, trying to search for any strange thing around them.  But nothing, nothing could he see other than the plants and his own cousins and Sam.  He shook his head a little to clear his mind and soon he came back to where he actually was.

Sounds of dogs barking and an angry, yelling voice, and Pippin shouting to Sam.

"What's the meaning of this?"

Merry looked down at his hands and shoved the vegetables in them to Sam.

"Hold this!"

Sam's eyes widened.

"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crop!"

Merry did not reply to that, he just followed Frodo who was grabbed by Pippin, and they ran like freaks.  Strange, though.  Merry could almost tell the seductive smell was in front of him and he could feel that it was clamoring in joy and triumph.

But that stopped abruptly as they halted just before the edge of the hill.  Merry sighed loudly in relief as he grasped Frodo's shoulders to stop him from toppling over.  But everything was in vain when all of a sudden Sam bumped into his back and the impact sent all four of them flying down the hill.

And all thoughts about the strange scent were forgotten as everything followed in quick succession: the rolling down, the talk about shortcuts, Frodo's sharp warnings to get off the main path, and their escape from Merry knew not what.  It was true that Merry once felt the smell getting stronger a moment before Sam suddenly shaking Frodo hard and himself throwing a bag away to distract whatever was chasing them.  Merry hardly caught what really happened to Frodo and why Sam treated his master that way.

But fleeing.  That was all they did afterwards.  Away from the threat.

Until at some point when they felt a little bit safer and they were hiding behind trees.

And the scent rose again, even stronger, and it struck Merry, and Merry alone, like a bolt of lightning.  It smelt of power now …and it talked.  It whispered.

"Come.  Come with me."

Merry turned to Frodo.  And without realizing it, his voice was sharp and threatening when he addressed his cousin.

"That Black Rider was looking for something … or someone.  Frodo?"

* * *

Merry jerked awake.  Sweats dampened his entire body as he was pulled back from the nightmare.  Nightmare?  He threw glances and caught things he did not guess before with his eyes.  He was not in the wilds anymore but in a room, a spacious room.  Around him were not gigantic and menacing trees that could block his sight to the sky.  There were windows that even though they were not big and were placed so high that he could not see the outside through them, they were still capable of shining rays of light into the room.  And although it was not the sky above him, Merry was quite stunned by the curved ceiling over him.  Silently he huffed.  He was safe.  No one was after him.  After them.  His nose could even spot fresh and sweet aroma he later found out coming from a table in the left corner of the room.

Merry got up and tiptoed toward the table.  A wide grin broke across his face as he caught the sight of a bowl full of fruit, a plateful of muffins and small tarts, and a jug of lemonade.  His stomach growled suddenly, realizing how long it had been left empty.

But suddenly a strange sensation came over him like a whirlwind.  Dizzying him.  Confusing him.  Merry was no longer could smell either the fruit or the cakes.  But that scent.  _That_ scent.  The smell of power.  Although it was fading now.  Where to?

Merry glared around once more but wildly this time, and his eyes stopped dead at the door as it clicked open.

And revealed locks of curls from behind it.

"Merry?"  A hesitant voice emerged slowly.  Pippin's.

Merry jumped and in no time he had got to the door, pulling it wider and grabbing the smaller hobbit inside by the collar.  Pippin shrieked.

"Pippin, my once friend and loyal company who then turned to a traitor!  Visiting your beloved old Merry?"  

Merry smirked, gripping Pippin's collar and shook his cousin vehemently.  There was no more Merry who thought the escape from the Nazguls was a nightmare.  Who saw the food with his old hobbit's eyes.  Merry had gone back into the shadow, under the inevitable power of the Ring.  A reality that had to be faced, however bitter, by Pippin.

Pippin, of course, never realized that Merry had, in a brief moment, returned to his own self.  That was not why the young Took decided to come to the room.  He just thought, wistfully, that Merry had changed after being separated for some time from the Ring, and ignoring warnings from Gandalf, Pippin determined to see for himself.

Apparently he was wrong.  And he had to pay the price.

Pippin's face turned blue from the violent shakings and he got so dizzy he felt like throwing up.  With his trembling hands he caught Merry at his upper arms and tugged at the shirt sleeves weakly.

"Mer – merry," Pippin stammered in between the jerks.  "P – please stop…  I…  I feel… sick!"

Instead of cutting off what he was doing, Merry shook Pippin harder until the other hobbit's teeth rattled.  Merry roared terrifyingly, making Pippin recoil inwardly.

"H – HELP!!"  Finally he managed to scream.

And if that successfully got him away from further shaking, it did not help him at all to escape Merry's brutality, for as soon as Merry let go of his collar, he sent Pippin sprawling back on the floor by his vicious backhand.

"Quiet!"  yelled Merry.

Pippin looked up at him in terror and turned around swiftly, ready to back away from the door.  But Merry would not let him.

"A – ah!"

The twisted cousin snatched a handful of Pippin's hair and yanked it harshly.  Pippin screeched and reached back for Merry's arm with both hands.

"Let – me – go!"  he breathed helplessly.  "Let me go, you devil!"

"Ah."  Merry dragged him up and along to the direction of the bed.  "But it is you who came here voluntarily.  That shows how you miss me, do you not?"  He pushed Pippin mercilessly to the bed, Pippin landing hard on his stomach, wind knocked out of him.

"DO YOU NOT!"  pushed Merry further as he started to place his vise-like grips on the poor hobbit's neck.  Pippin got so startled at the vengeful action that he did not get the chance to move.

"Mer …  No!  Ack!"  he choked.  The pressure on his neck tightened and tears rolled down his cheeks to wet the bed sheets.  Pippin was still squirming for a moment before he felt himself starting to drift off.  His eyes rolled back.

_"Can't,"_ he thought miserably.  _"I can't die now.  Not now.  Not in this place.  Not when they all have a chance to be healed.  Merry…  Frodo…"_

But he could not stand it anymore.  He had to give up.  _Must – give – up…_

Pippin's mind was still whirling and floating between life and death when suddenly he felt the pressure on his throat was gone.

It was gone.  It…

And burst of air attacked his deprived lungs, sending him to oblivion.

* * *

_"These are all lies!!"_

And that was cried out loudly now.

Frodo's eyes fluttered open.  Anger and trepidation blended in the deep, blue pools, creating a pitiful sight for everyone who in turn gasped at the exclamation.  Gandalf threw a questioning glance at Aragorn, who gazed at him back in greater confusion.  Bilbo trembled slightly and almost staggered backward if not caught immediately by Sam.  But Frodo did not give any care for the commotion he made.  He fixed his eyes on the closest person to him, Gandalf, in this case, and with lips quivering, repeated the same statement.

"Lying, lying.  Everyone is a liar," Frodo whispered.  Why?  Why?  He would have felt better if they just told him directly how he had been a burden all this time.  How he had been such a freak that they had had to pretend to act nicely in front of him and to restrain their true feelings in front of other relatives.  To hold back their shame.

A slash felt like piercing Frodo's heart, and it hurt more now that all those people, who Frodo loved dearly, were acting pretentiously in front of _him_.  Frodo flapped open his blanket once more, about to leap out.

But he never succeeded this time.  Two pairs of strong hands were suddenly on both of his shoulders.  The two elves.  Frodo never knew when they got there replacing Gandalf, having been too busy with his self pity.  But it did not matter.  They were still there, pressing Frodo down hard against the bed yet they hardly hurt him.

Still, the act surprised the hobbit and despite his wish for the other to treat him as he expected, the restraining hands, that Frodo considered one of logical things to happen, made him jump.  And finding out he was unable to lift himself off the bed, Frodo let out a squeak and squirmed as hard as he could.  Panic started to grow in him, flashes of things happening in the past returning to Frodo and he could not stop them.  Nor could he stop his pathetic cries.

"No!  Let go of me!"  he panted desperately.  "I will be good!  I promise!"

Sam opened his mouth and almost dashed forward, but a strong hand clasped at his arm.  He turned to find Gandalf shaking his head, stopping both his attempt to yell out his disagreement and to give his master a hand.

"Ssh, don't worry.  Frodo is in good hands."  Gandalf nodded to the direction of the door.  A figure stepped in and elegantly paced forward.  In his hands was a cup of steaming liquid.

Elrond walked toward the bed and stopped short behind one of the elves.  He nodded to them, who then each put a hold on Frodo's shoulder and upper arm and then lifted the hobbit gently to a sitting position.  Frodo was too dazed at the sight of the graceful figure that he could do nothing but comply.  His screams had also ceased without his realizing it.

Frodo was still held tightly when the elf-lord came closer, bringing the cup under the hobbit's nose.  The sweet smell of chamomile probe into Frodo's nostrils, making him relax a bit but something was also awakened in his memories.

Frodo turned his gaze into the other's soothing eyes when he called his name.

"Frodo?  You remember me, do you?  We have met outside some time ago.  Yesterday, if I may add.  But you might not know my name.  I am Elrond and this is my house."  Elrond waved his right hand.  "Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins."

Digging up into his clouded mind, Frodo did feel that he had seen the face before.  The name sounded oddly familiar, too, though it was foreign enough for Frodo to decide if this one was lying as well, or not.  Yet, that was not what concerned him most.

It was the brew that looked like tea Elrond was bringing, that Frodo knew just too well it was not ordinary beverage.  And he also knew its effect to him.

And before Frodo could stop it, words that sounded like an echo from the past reverberated throughout the room.

_"Are you going to drug me, Merry?"_

TBC


	6. Those Crispy Chuckles

AN: I hope you forgive me for the late update.  My computer has just crashed but thank Eru all  my files are safe. 

Always thanks for **_aelfgifu_** for her help in checking everything.

**Chapter 5 – Those Crispy Chuckles**

Aragorn and Sam were not too startled to hear Frodo's trembling voice, querying about Merry's drugging him.  They had heard the story from Merry himself about the cruel things the Ring-corrupted hobbit had inflicted upon Frodo.  But neither the ranger nor Sam had ever heard about what had happened exactly to pathetic soul now looking fearfully at the elven lord with his big eyes that seemed to sink even deeper into their sockets.  His bony hands still clutched the blanket, his shrinking frame clearly quivering.

Aragorn and Sam did not have any idea that it was _Merry_ standing in front of Frodo, in the sight of the hobbit, and not Elrond.

And there was a sharp tip of a blade plummeting into the soft tissue of his throat, held there by his other cousin, Pippin, with a sole purpose, to make sure Frodo gulped down the brew.  Frodo dared not move, nor did he want to take the tea voluntarily.  He had had that once.  Why did he have to get another dose now?

Frodo's eyelids fluttered a little as he gazed up at _Merry_.

"Why, Merry?"  Frodo asked weakly.  "Have I not behaved the way you wanted me to?"  He gave an ineffectual struggle, against the two elves' hands, matter of factly.  "You have to trust me, Merry.  Please!"

From the place where he was standing, Bilbo froze, transfixed by the mind-shattering scene happening before his eyes.  He had seen how Frodo had gone berserk and acted as if he had lost his mind.  But Frodo hardly spoke a while ago.  This time he did, but – what came out of his mouth was simply abominable!

And if Bilbo ever doubted Strider's words, he could not anymore as Frodo's pitiful plea had revealed all.  It was true Merry was the one to blame for his nephew's condition.  Or at least that was what Bilbo believed.

Though a moment later his certainty started to fail him.

He still could not believe how a lad – that was Merry to him – could break Frodo and turn him into someone he hardly knew, and who did not recognize him either, in return.  This was Merry who had almost ruined his birthday party by lighting Gandalf's biggest firework, was it not?

But remembering the birthday party only pierced his heart even more, leaving it raw and bleeding, because that was the last time Bilbo heard Frodo's gay laughter, the one full of mirth and joviality.  Bilbo had left the once young and ardent hobbit even before the party was over.  And even though he never expected to meet Frodo again, it never crossed his mind to witness him in such a state.  Not getting another chance to see Frodo might have been a much better thing.

A voice interrupted Bilbo's musing, but it was more like a background sound.

"Merry…" 

"You must drink it, Frodo."

"Oh, please, Merry.  I'm begging you!"

But a stern look in the eyes of the commanding person in front of him stopped Frodo's blabbering.  Frodo was painfully reminded of things having been done to him had he acted stubbornly.  He abruptly switched to submissive mode.  Frodo lowered his gaze and nodded subserviently.

"All – all right, Merry.  I'll have it.  Just don't hurt me anymore."

Moments passed but the cup stayed in its place.  Frodo tilted his head up, questions playing in his eyes.

"M – e – r – r – y?"   Frodo let out small, hitching breaths.  Panic started rushing into him again.  Why the delay?  Had his cousin felt offended already by his previous act, that there was nothing Frodo could do to mend it?  The only way to make up for it was to have him punished – again?

Frodo struggled anew, not caring to the edge of the dagger still gleaming on his throat.

Lord Elrond, who had stopped dead at his place, could not help staring wide-eyed at the poor hobbit who was barely able to tell the hold of a knife from that of mere grasping hands.  Elrond had been amazed by the replies given by Frodo for his bidding him to drink.  Frodo had been calling him Merry.  Frodo had seen him as Merry.

An immense hand felt like wrenching his heart into a mess.  Frodo's condition was beyond his imagination.  He _had_ to stop his effort to feed the hobbit the brew.  He just had to stop.  Elrond could not seem to make his hands do what he wanted to do.  And Frodo's sudden change into a solemn state frightened him even more.

_… just don't hurt me anymore_?  What had been playing in Frodo's broken mind that he had to let out such an utterance?

But there seemed to be something else Frodo was thinking, from what Elrond could see.  Now the hobbit was not somber anymore.  He gave the two elves holding him another challenge.

"Frodo," called Elrond with newly formed dignity.  "You must calm down!  No one is going to drug you or hurt you.  This tea is just to make you more focused."

The voice fell dead in Frodo's ears, garbled and empty.  Meaningless.  What he heard was only the mention of his name, which sounded a bit too harsh for him.  Merry was really angry at him this time!  Frodo's jaw dropped open, eyes glancing hollowly at Elrond.

"Cousin?"

"I'm not your cousin!"  snapped Elrond.  "I'm Elrond.  I am an elf."

Frodo was taken aback.  This must be another thing Merry wanted him to believe.  He wanted Frodo to see him as an elf named Elrond.  Now why did the name sound familiar?

"Merry…  Elrond…  Yes, yes," murmured Frodo, shrugging a little and ceasing at once feeling the blade's tip tickle his throat a little.  "That's your name now.  I understand, Merry."

Elrond looked around in despair at Aragorn, Sam, and… Bilbo, who turned out to be the only one not returning his gaze.

No, for Bilbo was not in the room anymore.  He was back in the Shire.  In Hobbiton.  At Bag End.

In the library.

In a place where he often found Frodo indulging himself in books later on the days when Frodo was older.  When he was able to read by himself.

Countless times had Bilbo tried to send Frodo out to meet people, to socialize.  But the zealous hobbit would just chuckle and, grabbing the nearest volume, stride out of the library, and the house.  Not to socialize, of course, but to take refuge to a deserted spot near the woods where he could finish the book in peace.

It was times like that when Frodo was not too coherent when being spoken to.  Bilbo would have to repeat what he was saying if he wanted the messages across.  The answers Frodo gave often did not make sense at all.

Just like what Bilbo had been watching and listening to the one-way conversation between Frodo and Elrond.

Frodo had denied Elrond sensible answers the elf now was desperate to have.  Bilbo smiled inwardly, bitterly.  Now Elrond felt the same way as Bilbo, but he would not get the carefree laughter Bilbo usually would after those insensible answers.

Bilbo blinked eventually, sensing the sharp gaze still boring into him.  He found that Elrond was still looking at him, sending silent pleas asking for permission from Bilbo to do whatever was necessary to Frodo, and conveying shared pity over Frodo's condition.  Elrond knew what Frodo meant to the older hobbit and he could not imagine how regretful Bilbo must feel now that he saw what happened to Frodo after he left.

Bilbo was indeed sorry.  The last time he remembered was, again, the sweet smile the lad offered after a small joke during his birthday speech.  Bilbo could still see how the pair of pliant lips curve and part, the soft skin around the eyes wrinkle handsomely, and the striking blue plates shine like thousands of twinkling stars in the sky.  But those were the last things he discerned before slipping the Ring around his finger and disappearing into thin air.  Bilbo had not even waited for his nephew to say his goodbye.  He thought it was the best thing to do at that time.  Bilbo had always hated farewells and he was also sure Frodo would not have to let him go.

Moreover, he had entrusted Frodo in the hands of the grey wizard.  That was true.  Gandalf had promised he would keep Frodo safe.  He had said nothing would harm Frodo.  Nothing at all.

 So then, why could all these terrible things happen?  Why could Frodo be reduced into this kind of state – battered body and mind?  It was hard to expect chuckles to come out of those lips again, except maybe if they came out of hysteria.  And those eyes – the sparkles had seemed to have long died.  Now they were a mixture of so many contradictions.  Once they shone resistance as their owner squirmed and struggles to free himself.  But then the resistance dimmed, quickly replaced by trepidation.  And finally – this was what Bilbo loathed the most – a sign of defeat surfaced just as fast.

"I will drink it, Mer… er – Elrond," Frodo gave up, his shoulders sagging.

And this time Bilbo noticed Elrond was determined.

"Yes, Frodo.  Drink it.  You will feel nothing but relaxed, and you will tell everything to me."

TBC

CleopatraVII: I'm so glad you come back to read my stories!  My beloved old friend…

Peony: Here I am!  Hope you're still with me, dear.

FrodoBaggins87: And I like your stories, too!

aelfgifu: I'll send you the next chapter soon!  Thanks, my dearest!

AN: Still hungry for more… reviews!!!!


	7. Unveiling of the Shadow

Chapter 6 - Unveiling of the Shadow

Frodo looked warily at the cup as it drew nearer to him.  He wanted to ward it off, an easy thing to as no one or nothing restrained him.  But Frodo knew he could not do that.  He was bound by his own promise.

So Frodo just let the lip of the chinaware touch his, let his own lips taste the sweetness of the brew, let the warmth of it sluice down his abraded throat.  Moistening the aching cask that had been too long left without water.

Frodo closed his eyes gently as the tea comforted him, not realizing that this was exactly what was expected of him.  To feel soothed.  To loosen all the knots in his muscles.  To get distraught no more.

But not to sleep.

*   *   *

Merry witnessed the entire process of Frodo relaxing under the drug's influence, not with any ease.  He squirmed against the fast grip of the two elves at his sides.

They had come answering Pippin's cry for help before the air surging through his throat was cut off by Merry's merciless hands.  And before Merry even realized their presence, the elves had taken hold each of his arms and grabbed him away from Pippin.

Then without uttering any words the fine creatures brought Merry away from the room, down the hall, towards the forepart of the house.

"Where are you taking me?"  screamed Merry, bucking and arching uselessly.  Never had he faced waxy faces like the elves'.  And they were so strong despite their leanness.  In a short moment they had successfully dragged Merry to the room where Frodo was being treated.  And where practically everyone was there, the elven lord, Bilbo, Strider, and Sam.

_And_ Sam.

Merry's being carried there was certainly under Elrond's command for he did not look surprised at all.  But this was definitely out of the others' knowledge.  Sam turned to the door where the commotion coming from and his eyes almost spilled out of their holes catching sight of the corrupted hobbit.  He nearly jumped at Frodo's cousin but was quickly seized by Aragorn.  Sam did not have the chance to splutter his fury toward Merry because of the man's warning look to him.  Aragorn looked sternly at Sam and then altered his eyes to Frodo, who was starting to go limp under Elrond's spell.

Sam sighed.  He could be enraged now but he could never endanger Frodo's life no more than he already had.  His master was still in a condition beyond Sam's worst nightmare.  Frodo's still seeing Elrond as Merry was clearly not a good sign.  And if the elf failed this time, Frodo could sink further to insanity.

Unlike Sam, Bilbo was completely oblivious to what happened around him but Frodo.  His eyes were fixed on the young cousin of his and nothing could tear them away from him.  It was as if the old Bilbo were afraid things would turn amiss again should he ever turn from Frodo.

Merry's eyes also steadied to the same direction.  But where they were exactly was not on Frodo.

On the Ring.

*   *   *

Despite being still awake and aware of his surroundings, Frodo could only hear Elrond.  All other sounds of voice were a mere background noise which would easily be thwarted if need be.  Frodo heeded nothing of the coming of Merry nor did he attempt to turn his head to his former tormentor, his _friend_.  As soon as the substance in his tea came into effect, Frodo let his lids droop and his perturbed soul quiet.

"There is nothing to be afraid of, Frodo Baggins," came the soothing voice of Elrond the wise.  "You need just to relax."

_What else can I do?_  The resistant part of Frodo suddenly emerged and felt the urge to fight.  It even laughed bitterly.  _I am sedated.  What do they expect me to do?  Struggle still?_

But the tired Frodo had long given up.  The clouds were still in his head somehow.

_Let Merry do anything he wants.  I wonder why the Ring is returned to me.  Isn't that what he desires?_

The gentle voice broke Frodo's reverie.

"Now take a deep breath."

Frodo felt his breath come in and out more evenly as if it were controlled by something out of his will.

"Keep your eyes closed and begin to feel yourself relaxing."

Subconsciously Frodo felt his mind trying to suppress the mocking chuckle from the unbroken part of him.  _I have been relaxed for hours!_

Elrond continued, or it was Merry in Frodo's twisted mind.

"Now become aware of your arms.  Now relax your arms."

This time, _both_ Frodos were suddenly made aware of the presence of the said body parts.  And along with the "Let them grow more and more comfortable," they felt as if a heavy burden were lifted up of them.

"Let the muscles become loose and limp and even more relaxed."  Elrond's voice sounded like a soft breeze in Frodo's ears.  And after the elven lord repeated the instructions for the other areas of Frodo's body, the hobbit felt like floating in the air for the lightness of himself.  There was no more fear in his heart or pain in his build.  A voluntary breath was taken again, deeply and effortlessly.  There was no more confusion whether it had been Merry speaking, or someone else.  Whether Frodo was actually himself or a different _him_.  There was only peace.  And it was peace, too, that brought him into tears.

*   *   *

Merry felt the corner of his eyes twitch, soreness starting to spread from it to his entire eye ball and to his other one.  The surface of the eyes began to get wet from straining them so long.

At the Ring.

At the gleaming little thing which looked as if it moved a little, swirling gently against the rising and falling of Frodo's bare chest.

But unlike the time when Merry suddenly got enchanted and heard it speak, this time it was silent.  There was no more whispers in the air, or rather, in his head.  And apart from being held tightly by two immortal being s on both of his sides, Merry felt himself swaying as if about to kneel over and in his mind he was groping for something - anything - to hold on to.

The Ring.

The Ring had finally forsaken him, making his head whirl and float with emptiness. And Merry suddenly felt he wanted to be sick.  He wanted to lift his hands to reach for his head, to steady it.  But of course, he failed.

Sweat drenched all over his face, body, his arms and hands.  Merry fisted and unfisted them, feeling the slippery surface of them.  His breath gradually became ragged and constricted tightly at the throat.  Merry felt sick this time and despite the tightening in his throat, he strongly felt the urge to retch.

But the elves were oblivious to all those strange things happening to their captive.  They did not even heed Merry's more desperate attempt to free himself.  They simply clutched him.  And when Merry looked up at them, tears staining his ashen face, the immortals kept their eyes straight to their highness as well as the chief healer in the community, Lord Elrond.  Seeming like to be hypnotized too, the elves totally ignored Merry's plea to let him out of the room to spill out all of his stomach's contents.

"Please, dear sirs," begged Merry, almost inaudibly, without success.  Merry could not even hear his own voice.  Spooky silence was still here in his head, over him, overwhelming him.  Making him even dizzier, and finally, he could not hold himself back.  Bile pushed up unforgivingly and on the marble floor Merry released himself from the agony, heaving over and over.  Leaving everyone present aghast and eventually giving the hobbit their attention.  No one spoke just yet, just gasping at the pitiful sight.

But even that small thing was welcomed by the tormented hobbit with sheer gratitude.  Merry raised his bowed head and his eyes came to life as he realized something - he could hear them!  He might have made a big mistake by soiling the pristine chamber with his vomit, but by doing that, Merry felt as if great shadows had been lifted from him.  His mind cleared and his heart saw what his eyes saw and told him to do what _real Merry_ was supposed to do, definitely not things the corrupted one would.

Merry looked around to the faces - some looked angry, some confused - with his mouth still slightly parted and sticky liquid dripped from his lower lip.  Shadows had been uplifted but a new fear slowly crept into his heart.  From the people around him, Merry sensed something dreadful had taken place, with him as the main reason.

His eyes fell on the enflamed ones of Sam's.  Merry shuddered conspicuously, not knowing what had made Frodo's gardener so mad at him.

"Sam," he called with his thin, shrill voice, turning to Frodo's limp frame in the bed.  "What has happened to my cousin?"

TBC 

AN: Oftentimes I was tempted to give up this story.  But as I am curious about the end of this myself and all the attentions all the readers have been giving, I decide to go on.  I do wish some push and encouragement to continue.  One of which that I have always got is from the great Emma, my beloved beta.

dj: I'm so glad to hear from a new reader.  And knowing that you read NH, too.  Wow.  Thanks a lot!

FrodoBaggins87: I sure wish to be able to update sooner.  But some things just came in the way.

CleopatraVII: Very nice to hear from you again, my old friend.  This made me feel safe.  *sniff*


	8. What Did He Do to You?

**Chapter 7 – What Did He Do to You?**

Spikes of fire.  Those were what Sam was projecting to Merry through his eyes.  Yet apart from them, unimaginable anguish was also shot out of Sam's gentle, brown eyes a moment after his master finished telling them all about what Merry had done to him, under Elrond's spell.  But by and by Merry was undone by both of them – the flames of Sam's confounding fury and the younger hobbit's silent, sorrowful questions of him.  

_No, no_.  

Merry slowly backed down, head shaking wordlessly.  No one was pushing him to the wall, only Sam's stares, but they were enough to pin Merry down against it.  But a moment later, it was not only Sam's.  Heads were turning.  Eyes were blazing.  All of them were riveting on Merry.  Exasperation.  Accusation.  Disbelief.  All was cast upon him.

Merry started to grope at the wall behind him, desperately hoping it would give him some kind of support, something to hold on to.  But it was too smooth, and with uncontrollable shudders, knees turning to water unable to bear his body any longer, Merry slowly slid down to the floor.

These people – these people were all angry at him, Merry thought fearfully, raising both his arms to protect him from…  from what?  Blows?  Merry did not know it these men and elves were capable of hurting someone smaller like him.  But from the look of it, the hobbit was grimly certain they were.

His face was safely covered now and his body curled up into a fetal position.  Only small, hitching breaths showed that Merry was still there.  Labored breaths that gradually turned into sobs – equally labored sobs.  Merry was trembling hard.  He was afraid, deadly afraid.  Everyone in this room was infuriated at him, but that was not exactly he was afraid of.  He had heard horrible, horrible things coming out of Frodo's mouth and Merry perfectly understood why people were mad at him.

But again, it was not the one he was afraid of.

He did not remember ever inflicting such things to Frodo.  His own flesh and blood.  His beloved cousin.

He did not understand why he did those things.   What made him do them?

Merry curled up even tighter, swallowing his sobs for fear that they would soon turn into hysteria.

Merry never thought it was _he_ that was capable of hurting someone – Frodo, of all people.

And that was what he was afraid of.

*   *   *

Elrond glanced down at the form lying in the bed, covered with a thick blanket.  All he could see was the pale face, eyes peacefully closed.  But the elven lord knew Frodo was not sleeping from the intakes of breaths that alternated, sometimes deep and calm, and at other times frazzled and uneasy.  The lips did not stay closed.  One could always catch murmurs coming out of them, no matter how soft they were.  Elrond shook his head slowly.  Frodo must be totally relaxed.  Otherwise he would quickly rise from this half-conscious state before Elrond was done with him, and getting him back into this state would be far more complicated.

The elf clamped his hand upon Frodo's brow and with a determined voice called out the hobbit's name, loud and clear, so he did not have to repeat it.  Frodo was still at once, getting ready to whatever Elrond would say to him.  Eyes still shut.

"Frodo," Elrond spoke, gentler this time.  "I want you to completely relax.  Let loose all the knots in your mind.  You are safe now and you know that.  There is nothing to fear."

Elrond could feel doubts still linger in Frodo's mind.  A bit more effort to win the broken soul but these were just several steps from hundreds or thousands Elrond and the others had to take to bring Frodo whole again.  They had just come to the part in which they would find out the real evil that had converted the gentle hobbit into a pitiful, childlike wretch.

Elrond brought in his charm into his voice one more time.

"I want you to trust me.  I want you to tell me everything, be it dear for you to remember or buried deeply for fear to recall it.  Nobody is going to hurt you for whatever you will say."

Silence.  Elrond let his words sink into every heart in the room, Frodo's especially.  He noticed how the hobbit got visibly calmer this time, chest rising and falling regularly.

Then Elrond pushed tenderly.

"Do you understand, Frodo?"

He had not even begun with the real questioning but eyes had started to get teary as a soft voice replied.

"Yes."

*   *   *

That was the first word Frodo had uttered – the first word that connected him to the real world.  The first word that was comprehensible for all and that was not just blabbers about Merry and Frodo's wish to go to him.

Sam saw Frodo with pure giddiness.  He recalled the event when Merry grabbed his cousin and slammed him to a tree down in the wild not far from Brandywine River.  Sam had hardly believed his eyes.  It was bad enough, even for him.  Then, what had happened to Frodo, what had Frodo experienced in Merry's hands, that could turn him to such a pitiful state?  Sam did not – could not begin to imagine.  Had he not remembered who he was or what he had promised Gandalf, Sam would have taken as far a flight as he possibly could to save himself from the evidence of abomination he was about to hear.  But as soon as that the thought hit him, Sam broke into new waves of despair and regret.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo!  Sorry to ever think of leaving you.  I'm so awful!  Look at what happened to you!  I'm sorry to ever leave your side at all!"

And Sam wept, clinging helplessly at the last hope he had for Lord Elrond to save his master.

*   *   *

Frodo had never felt so peaceful in his life.  (And his conscience mocked him.  Life?  That long?)  So, perhaps not that long.  Perhaps only after the passing of his parents.  Frodo had indeed gone through a number of sweet memories during his stay in Brandy Hall and Bag End.  But this – this was a bliss.  His head, body, and limbs, all were rested, through and through, on a soft, elven mattress that Frodo had only come to realize it.  His eyes were shut but he was not sleeping.  Just restful, relieved of all the tension, the feeling he had especially after that baleful day when Merry took him just to show him who his real friend was.

…

Merry!

Frodo's spellbound mind jarred a little as the name was echoing inside it.  Fog clouded over when guilt came and spread out slowly.  He was not supposed to think badly of Merry, Frodo scorned himself.  Merry was his friend.  He could not forget that.  He might find peace now and be indulged by it, but this would not last.  Frodo would soon awake and once again find himself alone in this world.  Alone – save for Merry.

Frodo did not show his restlessness to those present in the room, but apparently one did notice it.  And the hobbit then felt a hand close on his forehead, followed by a command, urging him to relax.  Frodo doubted it at first, but the voice was much stronger.  It convinced him there was nothing to fear and no one would harm him.  He was safe here.

Frodo did get more relaxed over hearing those words.  A smile even formed in his mind.  He knew no one would hurt him.  Who could possibly do that?  He had Merry by his side.  Though now he wondered – where was that cousin of his?  Frodo could not spot him anywhere, not with these eyes closed.

He was just about to unshut them when the voice suddenly flickered again.

"Do you understand, Frodo?"

Not wanting to disappoint the voice owner, the hobbit replied gently,

"Yes."

*   *   *

Elrond drew in a long, deep breath as Frodo's heartbreaking reply left a trace in everybody's heart.  The elf was so relieved he still could reach him.  That was the most important thing.

Elrond then moved gracefully  and sat on the bed beside Frodo.  The bed dipped gently as the elf weighed it down.  He studied the hobbit's fine features, and his eyes went to the soft, fragile arms folded upon Frodo's covered torso.  Elrond had met some halflings before but none of them was this pale and lean.  Though he already learned from Bilbo that Frodo, by nature was not particularly fond of food, Elrond's heart went out to the young hobbit – no more than a baby for him – and it pained him to learn what had come to pass.

Under the scrutiny of the many pairs of eyes, Elrond cupped one hand upon a velvety cheek.

"How are you, my dear boy?"

From the depth of soothing darkness, Frodo recognized the voice again and he answered, softly yet convincingly, "I'm all right," for he was feeling all right.

"That's a relief," replied Elrond.  Then he added, "Mae govannen, mellon nin."  Elrond HAD figured out from Bilbo, too, that Frodo was quite eloquent in Elvish tongue.  And the words he had just spoken were relatively easy.  There was no way Frodo would fail to respond to them.

That was why it stunned Elrond that Frodo did not answer directly.  Instead, the hobbit shrank back from his touch and his brow knotted a little.  Whatever the cause was, Elrond knew he had made a mistake by saying those words.  He immediately tried to make amends.

"You need not answer that, Frodo.  In fact, you need not answer anything if it troubles you."  Elrond took a great risk saying that, knowing that most of his questions would probably trouble Frodo.

"Friend," muttered Frodo suddenly, and Elrond almost jumped in surprise and joy.

"Yes!  Friend – mellon.  Mellon nin – my friend.  I greeted you as a friend, Frodo, since you are an elf friend."  But to his dismay, Frodo panicked even more.

"No, no!"  Frodo hissed.  "You are not my friend.  I have only one friend.  He is…  He is…"

"Who is he, Frodo?"  coaxed Elrond gently.  Frodo might get more upset but he had started to open himself.  Elrond did not want to lose his only chances.  "Take a deep breath, little one.  Remember, you are safe here and no one will harm you."  His words gave the expected result, Frodo beginning to show composure again.

"All right now, Frodo," started Elrond once the halfling had breathed normally again and stopped flinching at his touch.  "Do you mind telling me who your friend is?  The only friend of yours?"  Elrond glanced briefly at Gandalf, who frowned and cast his own to Merry.  The condemned hobbit stared back, wide-eyed, hardly realizing what was happening and what he was about to hear.

So the name danced out of Frodo's pliant lips.  He pronounced it clearly – and lovingly.  The 'r' sound in that name curled lazily around Frodo's tongue, an utter evidence for whoever listening to him how Frodo treasured the name and its owner.

"M – e – r – r – y."

In addition to that, a stunning smile unfolded itself across the face and made it glow in beauteous happiness.  Sam gasped.  He recognized this.  His Mr. Frodo would look this way every time he thought he found pure joy in his life, and that was not too often.  Sam remembered seeing Frodo like this when he successfully captured the precious moments of a blooming rose in the garden.  Then another when Sam caught him dozing off under a tree after a great reading.

But seeing Frodo with the same expression when thinking of the one who had tortured him was just absurd.  And insane.

Elrond cast a knowing glance to Sam.  He turned to Frodo again.

"But why do you only have one friend?  Don't you remember your loyal gardener, Sam, or Gandalf the wizard, or Bilbo, your beloved uncle?"

The smile disappeared upon hearing the questions.  But Frodo remained calm.

"Because Merry said so," said Frodo slowly, as if explaining to a child, and confidently.  Elrond's concern was evident.

"And you accepted it just like that, Frodo?  He might not have told you the truth; you know you have others to turn to."

Frowns started to appear on the hobbit's brow again.  His mind worked hard to discern what he had just heard and the first reaction it had – deny the words directly.

But somehow he could not.  Deep down he knew he had been wrong so far.  This contradiction in his mind slowly tore Frodo apart and he did not know what to do or say.  He began to thrash again in his place, his knuckles blanching for holding the blanket too tightly.  What was that again?  You accepted it just like that?  Frodo gasped for air.  It wasn't just like that!  He was…  Merry was…

The breaths grew heavier.  But – what could he say?  Or, could he say anything at all?

A pair of strong hands clamped at his shoulders and Frodo was forced to stop his twisting around.

"Frodo!  Do you remember my words?  I promise no one will hurt you no matter what you say.  You need not fear anything!"  Elrond held the shaking body with his deepest pity.  He could not fail now.  Frodo must let out everything for his own good, or he would never return.

"Listen to me!  And answer my questions.  What made you give in to whatever Merry said to you?  What did he do to you?"

TBC

Shire Baggins: Merry will writhe and beg for forgiveness indeed!  How do you like this chapter?  ^_^

Trust No One: I bow to your wish, My Lady.  And Merry will get worse than this!

FrodoBaggins87: Y – y – y – yes!  The loyal cousin will emerge soon… to pay for the damage he caused.

BrandyBuccaneer: Merry might suffer first before going out of this, I swear!  Thanks for reviewing, dear!

endymion2: I hope you were not asleep because the story was boring.  Haha.  No,  no.  I understand.  I do want to be able to finish it quickly but things keep coming in the way.

AN: I'm so glad precious people have friended me!  But I still want more.  Please go to my info page and find the live journal address there!  Oh, many thanks to **_aelfgifu_** for beta-ing this piece again.  *blow kisses*


	9. What He Did to Me

Chapter 8 – What He Did to Me 

_"What did he do to you?"_

Ted cringed as he heard the question and saw the visible flinch across Frodo's face.  Overcome by curiosity, Ted finally decided to join the others in the healing chamber.  The, Isengarder felt a deep relief as he noticed Frodo's condition had seemed to improve.  He looked fresh after a bath and his curls had been detangled and returned to their softness.  Frodo's weak figure now gave off a fresh and sweet fragrance.  But Ted had yet to see the hobbit improve mentally.

Since meeting Frodo, Ted had never felt so grateful to hear the hobbit's replies to Elrond's questions, so loud and clear and fully aware of what the other was asking him.  The man barely knew Frodo, - not in the little one's sensible state, at least.  Flashes of Frodo's terrified and tormented face returned to Ted's mind -Frodo's wide-eyed, full-of-question expression when he was stabbed in his room in one in Bree.  Frodo's pained and unconscious state.  Frodo's panic at Dave's horrible plan while they were in the wild, Frodo's unspoken wonder at Ted's tenderness toward him, Frodo's contorted face, full of pain  as Saruman revealed himself and put the hobbit in merciless torments.  Frodo's resigned state as Ted, though unwillingly, secured him to a tree or leashed him to Saruman's horse.

Then Ted lost Frodo.

Then the man was shocked when he found Frodo, after Frodo fell into Merry's clutches yet again, and saw how the hobbit had been degraded into such a broken being, bound to a post, asking for Merry.  Since then Ted had been asking himself if he would ever meet a true, whole Frodo.

He had heard and seen how Frodo answered Elrond, though some stumbled in places and Frodo had sometimes seemed lost, facing his old doubts.  But Ted was certain or prayed that the elven lord would not fail in revealing and prevailing over the devilish deeds upon Frodo.  Yet, expecting the response to the last question of Elrond made Ted's stomach knot, as it did everyone's in the chamber.

*   *   *

Something flickered in Frodo's eyes and for a moment the crystal clear eyes shimmered, pixyish and blithe.  Frodo seemed to come back to his prankful years and those who had known him long enough felt as if their hearts leapt, marveled and hopeful that Frodo had finally returned to his former self yet wondering why Frodo had looked that way.

Did he mock at Elrond's question?

Or…?

Elrond was considering giving Frodo more tea in case the hobbit's emotion suddenly got out of control.  But sensing what the elf was thinking, Gandalf met his friend's glances and shook his head slowly.

Meanwhile, Frodo had calmed down, his eyes subdued.

"What did he do to me?"  A small, lucid voice filled the room.  "Why, Merry is the best of friends.  My only friend.  He fed me.  He gave me applesauce and rolls.  He even bathed me."

Silence.

Or rather – everyone was silenced, while Frodo's voice were still reverberating, pounding against the four walls of the chamber as well as the contracting walls of each one's heart.

To say that Frodo's confession shocked them all was an understatement.

The feeling was outright sculpted on the youngest being just entering the room, his face pure white with terror.  Pippin wailed before he managed to check himself.

_"No, Frodo!"_

It would be a miracle if by the end of the day no one staying in this room felt their heart break.

All pairs of eyes were straying to the little hobbit now.  Almost all of them knew Pippin's involvement in this and therefore wanted to know what Pippin had to say.  But so far no one had been attentive to him.  Not while the focus was still on Frodo, who on the other hand, did not seem to hear Pippin's protest at all.  In his present state, Frodo only heard Elrond.  Nobody else was in the room but he and Elrond.  Frodo was staring blankly at the elf now who, with the others, slowly dragged his feet toward Pippin.

Trembling at how everyone was drawn to him, even Merry – with his eyes only for he was still in the elves' grip, Pippin regretted at once having pronounced his surprise so loudly.  But he was indeed started at Frodo's statements.  Pippin missed Elrond's question but he was sure that it was not what Frodo was supposed to say, looking at the reactions for it.  And he, Pippin, who had just tasted a little of the corrupted Merry's bitter pill, felt a sharp stab piercing into his heart learning that those were the things Frodo remembered.  Did he not recall any of those mistreatments?  Or did he choose not to remember?

"Should we not find out from him what really happened to Frodo?"  asked Elrond - his eyes wandering to the wizard and then to Pippin and then back again to Gandalf.

Gandalf hesitated for a moment before he remembered why they carried this out at the first place.

"We primarily do this to bring Frodo back to himself, not to seek the truth."  His eyes gazed back and forth to the three other hobbits in the room.  "Though we intend to know the truth nevertheless."  Gandalf's expression was one attempting to look stern when gazing at Merry and Pippin, albeit it failed and showed misery instead.

He suddenly felt warm on his back and when turning around, Gandalf found Frodo's wondering stare boring into him.  

The hobbit was speaking softly as if he was chanting.

"Truth…  What more truth can there be?  Merry is the only one who cares for me.  That is the truth…"

The wizard was forced to shut his eyes as they threatened to spill tears.  "Frodo…"  He whispered, painfully.  Elrond, too, was frozen in his place.  He started to doubt his plan and method.  He could get nowhere even if he pushed it, not with Frodo's mind stuck to what he believed.  Something else must be done.  Elrond's mind worked hard as he glanced around the room, frowning.  No, not from Merry.  The hobbit would not want to confess anything.

He looked around again.

Pippin.

Elrond took a deep breath.

The youngest hobbit was the key to this.  Gandalf must agree to question him this time.  Or at least, to aid the elf while he was questioning Pippin.

*   *   *

Soft, gently fluttering lashes framed Frodo's clouded eyes that absently shifted from Elrond to Gandalf, who were in the middle of a heated argument.  Frodo heard all of their conversation but his mind hardly registered what the discussion was about.  Soon Frodo let his reverie drift about and his luminous eyes wandered around the room.

To stop at the one he missed most.

Merry.

M – E – R – I – A – D – O – C 

Frodo smiled weakly at the startled hobbit, his eyes sending stark longing through empty air.  He felt someone plop down rather harshly beside him.

"Hullo, Pip," Frodo muttered, knowing exactly who it was without even glancing at the person.

Not once did he cast his eyes loose from Merry's face.  He would have run to throw himself into his cousin's embrace had he not been in a trance.  Thus, Frodo could only drink in the sight of Merry, gulping in unsatisfactorily as if he was in a great thirst, while transfixing a bewildered Merry in _his_ trance at the same time.

Gripping his hands on the blanket until his knuckles turned white, Frodo gazed longingly first at the golden brown color of Merry's curls.  It would feel soft against his palms should he be able to stroke them, Frodo swallowed hard.  He missed the sensation of rubbing them as he often imagined him doing that as Merry stroked his soaked hair after the beloved cousin finished bathing him.

Next, Frodo moved down to Merry's grayish green eyes.  As always the eyes poured over him with love and affection.  And taking a deep breath, Frodo closed his eyes slowly in bliss.  He felt peace gush all over him and Frodo opened his eyes again, now glassy with unshed tears.  

Then he came to his cousin's thin lips and Frodo could hear again loving words coming out of them, convincing things Frodo should have known before.  That no one would ever care for him more than Merry did.  Not Gandalf.  Not Bilbo.  Not even his own parents.

"We were running from hooded dark creatures.  I didn't know what they were, and neither did Merry.  And he was suddenly impatient.  He asked Frodo but he didn't answer.  That did it.  Merry snapped at Frodo and he slammed Frodo against a tree."

The voice was halting and soft, slurred with swallowed tears.  It had not caught Frodo's attention yet, though.  Not fully, as Frodo was still enthralled by his soul mate in this world, Merry.

_"I – I didn't know what came into me or Merry at that time.  I just wanted to help Merry and I saw that Frodo didn't help at all by being silent.  I felt my temper rise and when Merry asked me I was just…"_  Pippin gulped down.  _"so happy to comply.  I tied Frodo up against the tree and Merry, he… he…  He beat him up.  But Frodo kept resisting until I – cut his palm."_

Several jaws dropped heavily.

And Frodo – he kept his eyes fixed on Merry, a more blanched Merry this time, but those eyes began to darken.

_"I hit Sam behind his head so he could not give us more trouble and we took Frodo by ferry to Bree.  OH, and Frodo, he had told us then about his plan to go away from the Shire, but he hadn't said why.  In Bree we managed to duck away from - "_  Pippin stole a glance at Aragorn.  _"from Strider's curiosity.  We brought Frodo to an inn and there, Merry found the Ring."_

That was one of the dark parts Frodo hid deep into his mind, unreachable, or Merry would hurt him again.  Hearing it again from Pippin was such a torment and Frodo started to writhe.

TBC

AN: Here comes the update!  My gratitude for **_aelfgifu_** for checking all the silly mistakes I had here.  And my thanks go to all that have read and reviewed.  *smooch*

heartofahobbit: Now that you mention it, I can feel how cold Elrond is.  *shiver*

Yahiko: Hi!  Thanks for reading NH and thank goodness for finding this and reviewing it, too!  I'm so happy.  No worry.  Pippin will always be there!

FrodoBaggins87: Wah!  I would be very honored if people write fics based on my fics!  :)  Merry is going to pay but he won't die.  And Frodo, will he be always so forgiving?  Hey, FB 88 has contacted me.  Thanks for recommending me, honey!  I was so surprised!

Agent Pip: And I tell you, I'm just so glad people like what I wrote.  And it's even more rewarding you spared your time to review!  ^_^


	10. undone

**Chapter 9 – Undone**

"It's Bilbo's ring, I said to Merry," said Pippin, eyes affixed on Elrond. "But Merry said that it was part of Frodo's wickedness. Merry said _Frodo_ was the one who stole it from Bilbo. He was the thief, and the cause that drove Bilbo out of Bag End, out of the Shire. Merry said Frodo had always been a queer boy even before he left Brandy Hall. In fact, that was one of the reasons why his guadians finally let Frodo go to stay with Bilbo, Merry said."

The last words were spoken so softly that people were forced to strain their ears to catch them. Pippin's heart broke as he told the story, recounting it before all these big folks that undoubtedly cared for his abused cousin. Telling it again made Pippin feel as if he were reliving all those darkened hours and he was not sure if he still could continue. Or even if he _wanted_ to.

_Merry said. Merry said. Merry said._

What Merry said was always true, was it not? In his mind Frodo felt as if he were surrounded by four high walls, closing tightly around him and high above him were criss-crossed metal bars intertwined so close to one another that he could not see out without difficulty, and could not be seen by others without effort. To Frodo, almost no light seemed to seep through.

In his mind Frodo felt as if a length of cord was strangling him.

Frodo wanted to scream to these people that all of Merry's words were true, yet he could not. There was a part in his mind that stopped him from doing so because… because it knew that it was _not_ true.

It was not true that Frodo took the Ring. It was _not_ true that Bilbo left because of him. It was _not_ true that Bilbo took him from Brandy Hall because he was such a nuisance.

They were all not true because the truth was Merry was the thief himself, and he had robbed Frodo of the Ring. _His_ Ring. He was supposed to feel enraged by this, a feeling he distantly recalled. So distant that Frodo could not tell if he really had it, and it had started to fade away just like the small section in his mind that had stayed true all this time. Sane. Untouched. But it all slowly crawled to the darkest corner in Frodo's head as Pippin started again with what Merry had said, and that, of course, had to be _true_.

_This is not happening_, Frodo shivered and sank lower under his blanket. His hands clasped at it so fast that the nails pricked painfully into his palms. _And those have never happened,_ pleaded Frodo silently at Pippin's tales. Merry had never drugged him or confined him in a dark place. Merry had never starved him or denied him water. Merry. Cared. For. Him. Why was it so difficult for them to accept that? Why would they not leave him alone with this peace of mind?

But – why all those sorrow and deep regret in his cousin's grayish green eyes? Why did Merry lay crumpled against the wall at the far side of the room?

Frodo's eyes never wavered from his cousin's ever since Pippin begun, and though it was beyond his comprehension, Frodo could clearly perceive how Merry slowly turned into a wretched, worthless hobbit. And Frodo's muddled mind started to untangle itself.

"Frodo was tied on a chair, wrists secured behind his back, a piece of cloth serving as a blindfold. We left Frodo in that condition for long hours until it was clear to us that he was beginning to get disoriented." Pippin felt sick but he knew he had to go on. He was the only person in this room who knew exactly what had befallen Frodo, and who was sensible enough to reveal it. Pippin had to be strong for Frodo – and for Merry as well.

"And then Merry started to _show_ him how unworthy he was. So unworthy that everyone left him. Bilbo, Gandalf, even his own parents. Frodo's father and mother decided to sneak out in the middle of the night so that their only son could not find out directly."

"That's not true!" A voice banged loudly before Pippin's last word vanished. Bilbo. "How could he say that! Drogo and Prim did not _sneak_ out."

Aragorn's hand snaked around the hobbit's arm and Bilbo snapped to his side. His face was flushed.

"We know that, Bilbo," calmed Aragorn in a low voice. "Let Pippin finish it, shall we?"

The old hobbit's rasped breaths gave the reply before Bilbo finally nodded his agreement.

But everything was lost on Frodo but Pippin's words. Frodo's eyes darkened. His brows tightened. Sweat beaded on his face, mingled with tears on his cheeks.

Pippin stole a glance at Aragorn fearfully and nodded several times as the ranger signaled him to carry on. The hobbit reached for the neck of his shirt, trying to loosen it a bit.

"When Frodo gratefully accepted meals from Merry's hands, Merry thought he had succeeded in driving everyone else from his cousin's mind So Merry was totally abashed when Frodo said that Sam and not Merry was his only friend. Sam!. Merry was enraged beyond words. And so he unclasped his belt and… and…" Pippin brought his hands over his face and he wept pitifully, almost drowned in hysteria.

Pippin did not realize into what state his words had brought Frodo, and neither did Elrond and all the rest. They should have noticed it, though, how Frodo's face turned paper-white. The hobbit did not say or do anything. He simply sat there on his bed and stared at nothing. It was in his mind things were relived and for Frodo, they all seemed just as real as whatever was happening in this room. If not more real.

_"I'm not Sam, Frodo! I'm Merry! M E R - R Y, MER-I-A-DOC!"_

_"Yes, me! I'm the only friend you have, Frodo! Not that lowly __  
gardener of yours who's been rotting in the ground for days. You   
have to accept that!"  
  
"Who is your friend, Frodo?!"  
  
"Who is your friend!"  
  
"Sam...?"  
  
_

_"NO!" _

Frodo blinked hard. He almost felt all the lashing of the belt again. He flinched and squirmed, and when realizing he was free from any bonds, Frodo threw his blanket away and bolted out of bed, taking everyone by surprise.

Frodo reached Merry in such a speed that even Merry was left aghast, and took that cousin of his in the arms, shaking them violently.

"What made you do that, Merry!" screamed Frodo. "You are my cousin and you will always be my friend. You know that!" Merry crouched even tighter. He flailed vainly in an attempt to rub his wet cheeks.

"I know Sam is my loyal servant but he is nothing compared to you. And you are right. After I lost Bilbo, Gandalf, and my parents, I have no one to turn to. Save you, Merry!"

That hit Merry right in the pit of his stomach. After all this revelation – to find that Frodo was still insensible.

It was Merry's turn now to knock some sense into Frodo, and this time it would be the _real_ sense.

"No, Frodo! Bilbo and Gandalf never left you. They may not be present around you but they never _left_ you. Your parents might have, but the reason they were gone was not the one I told you. I – I don't know the real reason, Frodo."

Merry's voice weakened and he slumped back to the wall.

"And it was not true that Sam means less to you than I do. It is he who is your one true friend. Not me."

Frodo froze. It began to dawn in him that he had been tormented so badly by nobody but his cousin for nothing but lies. LIES. He tore away from Merry and gathered himself up, pressing his knees up to his chest and starting to rock back and forth.

TBC_  
_

**To the reviewers!**

Yahiko: Yes, I think I have to write this story for I have been so mean to Frodo in NH. I need to make him and _me_ whole again. I'm amazed to find you think it's very good. Thanks!

endymion2: That's all right. I mean, everyone has his/her own things to do. Pippin hardly has to do anything. He merely tells and leaves the rest to Frodo himself.

Skye12: You're so nice! It makes me concerned too as to why my reviews are getting less and less. I don't know if it has to do with the writing itself. If that's the case, I'd better do something about it. But if it's because of my slow updates, there is nothing I can do about. LOL. Just kidding.

FrodoBaggins87: Hmm. I wonder if this chapter is _active_ enough for you or not. I hope you like it!

AN: My gratitude goes to _Emma_, who always gives me moral supports concerning writing. You're such a dear! Another thing, I know I usually don't really care about reviews – oh, really? – but I think I'm dying right now to know if people really read this. Be an angel and tell me, all right? #shower you with Frodo's kisses#


	11. The Beast

Chapter 10 – The Beast 

Frodo's sudden outburst and the deafening silence that followed could not restrain Pippin much longer from rushing to the scene.  He seized Frodo's curled up form from behind and drowned it with tears.  But all of those were lost to Frodo.  Pippin sobbed even harder.

Gandalf slid closer and gently drew the youngest hobbit away from Frodo.  Frodo had withdrawn deep into himself again.  The wizard feared any more surprise or pressure from outside would lead him into an incurable state.  At first Pippin would not budge, his arms tightening even more around Frodo and his folded legs.

"Pippin," coaxed Gandalf.  "There will be time later when Frodo will need your embrace.  But it is not now.  He is not even aware of your presence now."

Pippin's head snapped up, watery eyes locking at Gandalf's.  He could see that but he refused to understand.  Wordlessly, Pippin pressed his cheek against Frodo's bony back, drinking in the now familiar smell of crushed athelas.  It was definitely more pleasant and soothing compared to the nauseating stench of sweat mixed with blood in that cursed room in Bree.  Pippin did not think he would ever forget that.  No, Gandalf was mistaken.  Frodo needed him _right now_ even if he did not know it.  Frodo's condition would get much worse if he was left alone now.

Gandalf sighed.  Tooks could be as stubborn as Bagginses sometimes, and so he nodded to a pair of guards by the door to get Merry instead.  They had learned of Merry's vicious conduct.  What they needed to do next was to question him further and see if they had to punish him.

Aragorn and Bilbo sent glances to each other and then to Elrond and Gandalf.  Could they stay or…?

"Frodo shall need time for himself.  The lad must be exhausted," Gandalf's voice was hollow.  He knelt before the insensible hobbit.  Gandalf gazed at Frodo's sunken and lifeless eyes.  They made him reminisce over the once vibrant and spirited ones as they had shone over Gandalf's words, _"__My dear Frodo.  Hobbits really are amazing creatures!  You can learn all that there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years, they can still surprise you."_

If only he never left Frodo alone with Sam in their perilous journey.

If only…

"Pippin and I shall watch over him.  Frodo might want to sleep now."

Aragorn, Bilbo, and Elrond got the underlying message, though it was hard for Bilbo to permit it.  After all, he was the boy's uncle.  Yet he could understand why Gandalf decided it would be best.  He would not be doing anything that was worthy of healing, apart from just being there.  Nodding silently, the hobbit, man, and elf started to leave, clicking the door closed behind them.

In silence, Gandalf gathered both Frodo and Pippin in his arms and brought them back to the bed.  Pippin was stuck to his cousin like a leech and Gandalf had to push him away gently while the wizard laid Frodo down.  Even then Pippin immediately resumed his embrace as he rested himself next to Frodo.  Pippin felt how Frodo was lightly shaking, and he burrowed closer.

"No worries, cousin.  Your Pip is here," whispered Pippin, his eyes slowly He, too, was exhausted.  Gandalf seated himself in an armchair next to the bed, observing how Frodo's lids did not stir a bit, as if he was still wide awake.

_Vacant.  Dead._

And neither Frodo nor the other two heeded a pair of eyes watching forlornly from a corner behind the hearth.

Sam's.

# --- # --- #

There were countless things Sam had wanted to do ever since Pippin opened his mouth and recounted many horrifying tales.  Ever since Frodo himself had responded to Elrond's prodding.  Some of those things included dashing toward him and drawing him into his arms, prying him away from all the abomination Frodo had endured and the horror he was made to relive it again.  Sam had heard Gandalf and Elrond say that revelation was a way to heal.  _Heal?_  Was that healing when Frodo suddenly screamed at Merry, shouting out words that showed his insanity?  Was that healing when he had begun to go silent again, building walls all around him?  Was that healing when…

"Sam," called Gandalf quietly, shocking the gardener.  His head jerked to Gandalf's direction, to the sight of him leaning forward in his chair.  Sam's eyes were red with tears as was his nose as a result of crying.

"Come."

Sam stared at Gandalf, full of reservations and distrust.

"I won't."

"Why, Samwise?"  Gandalf said patiently.  "Why hiding yourself in a dark corner while you can try to give comfort to your master here."

Sam's eyes faltered to Frodo's still open ones.

"I can't."

"Why?" asked Gandalf once more.  "Sure you can.  You can try like Pippin here."

"I can't comfort him."

"Samwise…"

"He's lost."

Gandalf's face was retorted.

"That is not true."

"You're lying!"  With that, a sob erupted from Sam and he ran.  He ran toward Frodo and grasped and shook his master's body violently.  The thin figure rocked in earnest.

"You're lying!  You said I could comfort him.  You said he'd known I'm here.  You said you'd CURE him!  None of them happens.  None of them – that I can do…"

Sam broke into wracked sobs and he let his tears trail down, soaking Frodo's face for he let his face rest on the ice-cold skin.

Gandalf was silenced.  He wanted to tell Sam that it was his intention to have all these hopeful things to occur.  Gandalf covered his face with both of his hands.  Despair was threatening to engulf him.

# --- # --- #

 _"You should not let him defeat you again."_

Silence.  Rocked.  Back and forth.

_"You should not let him tell you anything he wants you to believe."_

Silence.  Rocked back and forth.

A movement and now he was in someone's arm.  And now he was lying on his side in the bed.  And now someone was wrapping an arm around him.

_"You should not bend down before him."_

Silence.  His fingers sneaked up, closing on the Ring on his chest, unknown to the one hugging him.

_"You should listen to yourself."_

_"Quiet,"_ he hissed silently.  _"I'm not going to listen to YOU."_

_"I said, you should listen to YOURSELF."_

_"Silence!  Go away!  Go!"_

_"You will regret it if I return to him."_

_"Who asks you to come back?"_  mocked Frodo voicelessly.

A roar deafened Frodo, who in return chuckled quietly.

_"HE IS LYING TO YOU!"_

_"No, not anymore,"_ Frodo huffed in deep gratitude.  A thin smile appeared on his face, visible enough for anyone in the room including Gandalf and Sam, had they not been too busy with themselves.

"He told me that what he had forced me to believe was all wrong.  I know that.  I can feel it.  I'm not as helpless as you think.  I know that Sam is here with me now, and so is Gandalf and Bilbo and Ted and all who care for me.  I've heard Pippin's attestation and I believe him.  One thing never changes, though.  It's my parents.  They've really gone, even though it was not because of me.  I heard Bilbo say that and I believe him.  Merry is not lying to me anymore."

Silence.

A deep breath of relief and a softened gaze of the widened eyes.

Then –

"You are right.  They are all no lies – including the torments upon you and his dispossessing ME from your hand."

TBC

AN: Great thanks for **_aelfgifu_** for betaing this, and for you who are still here.

Especially to…

CleopatraVII: My old friend!  Thanks for still reading it.  I'm trying hard to keep writing.  Many things come in between.

Yahiko: _Every _review is important to me.  It's like the oxygen I breathe.  Thank you.

heartofahobbit: Your questions are one of the things that keep the story going and for me to keep writing!  I will try my best to answer them.

Skye12: I wish my Frodo will not be as bad as your Frodo.    Thanks for your review.  Oh, you have many more stories coming up, Kal!

endymion2: My beloved.  Have to admit it's a bit difficult to write with many characters in one place.  Hope I have sorted it out.

FrodoBaggins87: It's not going to be long, I promise!  Oh, FB87, have I reviewed your latest chap of your fic?  Hope I have!  Or I haven't?  Oh, my poor old brain!

Trust No One: Is this quite soon enough – the update?  Maybe not.  LOL.  Sorry.  But thanks again for reviewing.  Btw, this afternoon I'm watching Troy.  So, I can read your fics then! 


	12. Acceptance

**Chapter 11 – Acceptance**

"Don't," gasped Merry as two pairs of delicate yet strong hands seized him, determined to drag the hobbit out of Frodo's chamber. Merry planted his heels into the floor and weighed his body backwards, but the guards would not budge. They simply gave more pressure on Merry's upper arms, twisting them slightly but painfully enough to make the Brandybuck whimper.

Merry wearily eyed Frodo, lying in the bed with Pip snuggling behind him, unaware of what was happening around him. A surge of envy pricked from a deep corner in Merry's heart. How dare Pippin do such a thing! And how dare Frodo accept the treatment so openly. Merry _knew_ he was not supposed supposed to feel these things, was not supposed to give in to evil thoughts – still he could not help it. Only when he was out of the room did his inner clouds seemed to shy away and Merry able to regain his sanity. He whimpered again at the guards' treatment of him and at his own compliance.

The expressionless elven guards took Merry to an open-air leeway and seated him in a beautifully carved armchair with a tall back. The hobbit looked out of place for the chair was far too large for him. Merry sank in it and his feet were dangling. He tried to look dignified by attempting to reach the floor but he ended up slouching down.

Blushing, Merry pulled himself up and sat straight and tried not to pay attention to his swaying legs that made him look like a lad.

Merry was too preoccupied with himself that he did not heed several figures sitting before him in similarly large chairs, placing him in such a way that made Merry look like a convict awaiting his trial. It also escaped Merry when Lord Elrond shook his head as the guards moved with long ropes in their hands, ready to secure Merry in his chair. Merry was still a prisoner. They had to take precautions. The hobbit could try to escape. But, eyeing Bilbo, Elrond shook his head again. He knew better. In the end he simply raised his hand, dismissing the guards who then bowed and retreated.

Having finally settled in his seat, Merry huffed deeply and stole glances, eyes downcast. He grew panicked as he spotted Elrond sitting with Aragorn and Bilbo on both of his sides. Merry could not clearly recall what things he had said and done toward the three, apart from what he heard from Pippin's confession. Judging from their grim expressions, his words and treatment must have been something that left a bad taste in their mouths. The hobbit's thoughts were correct. Elrond tried hard not to think of things that had happened in the barn, while Aragorn sourly wished he could lay his hands upon Merry's face again. Only Bilbo had been lucky enough to never meet Merry in his darkened state. Even then, from what he heard so far, Bilbo felt quietly enraged.

Elrond cleared his throat.

"Your desire is bigger than yourself, Master Meriadoc. And the Ring knows it."

Merry's face reddened. He was dying to protest. _Desire? What desire?_ But Merry knew better and shut his mouth.

"The Ring can sense your desire to be something more than you are and It helps you achieve it."

_I desire only to stay by Frodo's side wherever he goes. To ensure he is safe, cared for, and loved. Frodo has suffered enough ever since he lost his parents. And now that Bilbo left him to stay in Rivendell, he practically doesn't have anyone to look after him. Frodo is utterly alone._

Merry sighed deeply and bent his head dejectedly. A tear slipped down his cheek. How could everything turn to such a mess?

"You couldn't have known how treacherous the Ring is. It will turn even the most noble ideal into an evil deed. At least now I know it was not your initial intention to claim the Ring."

Merry sobbed and shook his head, which snapped up as soon as the shaking vanished. Elrond knew what he was thinking! How? He had not uttered a single word.

"Do not fear me, little one," smiled the elf. "I can see what is in your mind and heart as long as it comes from you. The darkness has faded away, Master Meriadoc. That I know. Yet, I do not know if it will return to you again. Even the wisest cannot tell."

Elrond's words gushed over Merry like water being doused over a burning torch. Gratitude filled his heart. He was burdened with abundance of guilt and not one – not even Gandalf – had shown the smallest bit of understanding how he, too, suffered under the Ring's dominion. Its voice kept telling him, pushing him and forcing him to do things against his will, while his heart wept at the sight of Frodo tortured by his own cousin's hands. The Ring was deaf to any pleas Merry silently invoked, It even mocked them.

Merry noticed how Elrond nodded several times, offered comfort in his own way. Understanding – that was what Merry was thankful for. Acceptance that it he had not erred without help.

# # #

"Gandalf?" queried Sam. Worry was shadowing his face. He had let go of Frodo's hand after his master started to toss and turn. Behind Frodo, Pippin gawked at Sam with his terrified eyes. But Pippin did not let go. He even tightened his hold.

Gandalf rose from his chair and started toward the bed. Sam gave him more room to sit beside his master. The wizard sat down and sighed. He bent over to wipe off layers of perspiration from Frodo's brow. The hobbit did not seem to notice. His gaping eyes still stared unseeing. His parched lips stirred ever so slightly as if he was conversing with someone.

# # #

"You are right. They are all no lies – including the torments upon you and his dispossessing ME from your hand."

_"You LET him take me from you. You LET him hurt you!"_

Frodo's eyes were wide with terror. The little triumph and self-confidence he had experienced before were thinning fast.

"You did nothing to prevent him – the wicked little cousin of yours. You merely received what was done upon you."

And the Ring dropped Its deadly malice.

"He was not making it up when he told you that you were a freak. Because you rally are. What more – you are a worthless freak. A WEAK freak!"

Frodo yelped in anguish. This could not be happening! From what he heard from Pippin, it was the Ring that caused Merry's insanity. The Ring used him against Frodo. Now – now the Ring itself attacked him.

"What – what do you want from me?" Frodo quavered.

A mocking chuckle was heard.

"What else?" asked the Ring, frighteningly soft. "Your bravery, for sure. Your strength to fight against him. To take a revenge."

"Why would I want to do that?" A small voice from Frodo sounded repressed, uneven to the Ring's powerful demeanor.

"You are my master, that is why! You are supposed to be strong and not just submit to any other's will."

Frodo's voice was caught. He was nobody's master and nobody's slave.

_"Nobody's slave?" _mocked the Ring._ "What do you call it, then, when you let your cousin beat you up? And when you let all those ruffians torment you to half death, starve you, put a spell on you!"_

Frodo turned furious. He stood up against the malicious being.

"They were also being bewitched by you!"

The Ring's laughter grew louder.

_"Frodo dear, that is just what I mean. They were strong because of me. You can also be the same!"_

Frodo could not believe what he heard.

"You can make me strong so I can carry out my revenge?"

The Ring's silence answered his question. Frodo frowned.

"But I don't want to set revenge against my own cousin. I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to hurt anybody."

An eerie silence for a moment – and the Ring howled in rage.

_"You – a wretched little creature! You are such a weakling!"_

Frodo trembled, and he writhed bodily, tossing and turning as much as his body could against a tightened hold by Pippin. Then the hold was gone, replaced by a sense of being lifted up by a pair of strong, big hands.

"Frodo."

The hobbit stopped squirming. There was a voice again but this time was different from the previous one. This one even called him his name while the first one did not. This had to be different from the one calling him weakling.

Frodo felt his chest tighten. That must be true – being a weakling. He had always been weak. He could not stand Merry's Ring-induced inflicted pains. And now he could not stand being led by the Ring to punish his cousin – something that was right and proper.

"I am weak," muttered Frodo under his breath. "Weak, weak," he said over and over as if in delirium.

Gandalf rocked the halfling that had started to shiver again. The wizard's brow creased.

"Weak… weak…"

"Frodo," called Gandalf in a determined voice. "Why are you saying that? You are not weak That is not true." The wizard shook Frodo.

"Talk to me, Frodo."

"I am weak," mumbled Frodo. "A weakling."

"Frodo! Talk to me!"

TBC

AN: I know I've been slow in updating any of my series. So I would like to say thanks to anyone who is still with me. And to **_aelfgifu_**, my greatest appreciation for still being there!

CleopatraVII: School is always like that! But I'm glad you still read this. 

Yahiko: It **is** as precious as oxygen! How do you think about this one?

Skye12: I seem to not be able to write long chapters. LOL. Thanks for liking Sam and Gandalf's dialogue. BTW, your chapters are thrilling!

endymion2: Pippin hasn't reached his age in the quest so I guess it's natural for him to be a bit childlike. Thank you, deary!

heartofahobbit: I hope I can have more time to do the reviewing – especially to your chaps! Thanks for reading and again, reviewing!

FrodoBaggins87: LOL. Hope you're not confused anymore.


	13. A Question and a Plan

**Chapter 12 – A Question and a Plan**

Merry pulled his dangling legs to his chest while his hands were busy smoothing front the front of his shirt that had creased badly over the time. Roving his eves over his clothes made him realize one thing. He had not bathed or changed for all of these days, since they left Bree. Even Frodo's condition was better off than his. Merry had doused Frodo in buckets of water in that blasted room at the inn. Then it was with his own hands again had Merry, rather lovingly, washed his cousin with the warm water from the river.

Merry blinked away tears brimming in his eyes as he remembered the peace and joy he felt while bathing Frodo. Merry was certain Frodo had cherished every minute of it. Merry missed those moments very much when Frodo still wanted to listen to him, to talk to him. No matter how wrong the reason. Or how wrong the situation.

The hobbit could also see that Frodo had been well taken care of by the elves from look of it. Frodo had appeared so clean and smelled so pleasantly. Apart from the paleness of his face and the bruises and cuts on his body, Frodo could be thought to have been whole again, back to his old self. Had he not been so silent…

Merry brushed his hair back with one hand and found that it was tangled and felt heavy with dust and grease. He looked up to meet Elrond's gaze. Unknowing to the hobbit, the elven lord had been following all his acts, and frowned.

"You need a bath," he contemplated. "We cannot leave him like that, can we, Bilbo?"

Merry's eyes moved from Elrond to Bilbo. The elderly gentle hobbit stared at him and something stabbed his heart. He still could not believe it that he had been facing Saradoc and Esmeralda's son. Merry looked completely different – thin, filthy, wretched. Despite things he had heard, Bilbo pitied him immensely.

"No… we cannot." His voice came out, sounding far and withdrawn. Of course they could not. _He_ could not. It was his own nephew, for Eru's sake. As much as he wanted Frodo to return to how he had been, Bilbo also longed to see Merry go back to his former self, merry and playful.

Which seemed to be too much to expect right now.

Bilbo's words only worsened Merry's condition. They undid him utterly. Feeling more wretched than he had already been, Merry broke into sobs. His legs tightened up and his arms snaked around them, curling up into a ball in that big chair. The poor boy was shaking helplessly, wrecked by the violent cry of distress.

"What – what can I do to mend everything?" was heard amongst his keening. "How can I undo things?

VVVVVV

Something in Frodo's eyes reminded Gandalf of an untamed beast that stared triumphantly over its future prey. Frodo looked exactly like that when he finally opened his eyes, having stopped his soft chant of _I'm weak_. Now directly he stabbed the grey wizard with his sharp gaze, ignoring a loud, surprised gasp from Sam..

"I'm fully aware now," Frodo said, loud and clear. The voice startled Pippin, who had been asleep nuzzling at his back. Now Pippin automatically drew back, crawling as fast as he could and left the bed. Gandalf motioned him to stay away from Frodo, out of the room if necessary. But Pippin shook his head quietly. _No. Whatever happened he had to stay. For Frodo's sake._

Frodo sat himself up, straight, not leaning on the headboard of the bed. Sam had joined Pippin so now it was only Gandalf that stayed close to the _possessed _hobbit

"What are you aware of, Frodo?" Gandalf offered a hand to calm Frodo. The hobbit warded it off coldly.

"I am aware that I'm not weak. Never weak."

"No, you aren't," agreed Gandalf. "You're the most unyielding hobbit I know."

The eyes softened.

"Really?"

Gandalf nodded.

"You came out of the harsh moments alive. You outlived everyone that have done you harm."

The eyes froze again.

"I'm strong," said Frodo flatly. "I am – I was…"

The wizard touched his cheek gently.

"You were. You are. You will always be strong."

Frodo blinked his eyes ever so swiftly, and his voice started to waver.

"But I was… I was not strong." He sounded as if he were talking in a dream although his eyes were stuck to Gandalf. "I let them – I _let_ them!"

Gandalf thought Frodo might collapse anytime, but he was wrong. The hobbit sat still. The expressions in his eyes changed from pained to sad to nothing.

"I let them then but I will never do that again!" His voice boomed at the last word. Pippin jumped a little in surprise. Gandalf gave him a brief glance.

"That is good, Frodo. You will never let them hurt you again for you are stronger now." Gandalf slid to sit on the bed. Frodo nodded, full of confidence.

"That's right. I'm strong now."

"So what would you do next, Frodo?" Gandalf inquired further, knowing that he could not let this great opportunity to talk Frodo to awareness pass.

"I will punish them," replied Frodo after some moments. "I will start with Merry."

TBC

Coriandra: I didn't get this review, oh my goodness! Thank you, thank you for this. Yes. I'm feeling sorry for Merry, too, now.

Skye12: I hope this time you got the notice. Hm, I wonder why everyone seems to want to torment Frodo. Poor darling!

FrodoBaggins87: Here we go! Though it's quite short. sniffs

Astron-Meares: It's a bit fast and a bit short, I know. I find a little difficulty with this psychological thing. Any help?

Trust No One: I should thank you for all your reviews to all my fics so far! I'm not complaining. Hugs!

AN: To Emma, as always, I love you for all your help and your nice words and your support. To all the readers, I'm so grateful for all the reviews and comments and criticism. I need them all! Now what do you think about the end of this chapter? Any hidden desire you want to extend to me?


	14. Merry's Dose of Punition

Astron-Meares: No! Of course you can give any feedback to me and I will call none of it terrible. I love to hear what you tell me. But in this case, Frodo might have lost a bit deeper than we thought. He's scared, of course, with what he has in mind. Please don't give up on me. Please tell me anything. That's one of the sources of my ideas.

Freya: Thank you for reviewing! I guess, with this Merry-angst, I draw the readers' sympathy toward him.

Coriandra: Thanks for coming again! Frodo has to experience winding roads to get healed again. Poor him.

heartofahobbit: Oh, before I reply, allow me to extend my regret for not reviewing your last two chapters. I'm still following, of course, and trembling with the thought of what terrible things Frodo might suffer next.

Now with the reply! You know, the story gets more and complicated. I hope I have the hold of it myself eventually. Hehe.

FrodoBaggins87: I can't tell for sure how many more chapters it will need. Hope not long, btw. But I can assure you Frodo will come back, with a little past experience overshadowing, though. Hmm.

Skye12: Hi, Skye! Now you hate the jewelry. That's not good. Heheh. Oh, dear, I wish I can get to update sooner… But don't give up on me, will you?

Ru: Thanks for coming here! But you're right about the importance of friends – and yourself. We have to be strong for ourself.

Trust No One: I myself never saw Merry as Gollum. You are so imaginative! Thank you, deary!

Chapter 13 – Merry's Dose of Punition 

Merry panted hard. He was trying to see through the veil of curly hair falling upon his brow , but the incessant dripping of sweat kept getting into his eyes, hindering his sight. His body burned, especially his back. His arms were stretched out, tautly lashed to two posts in the balcony.

# -- # -- #

"You shall have to punish Merry?" asked Elrond.

"Yes."

"Why? He repents what he has done to you. We have talked and his guilt punishes him enough."

"That's not enough."

"But it is, Frodo, and you know that."

"No."

"Why? Why won't you forgive him?"

"I won't."

"Wherefore, lad?"

"Because then they would think I'm weak."

"Frodo?"

"They would do anything they on me and they would mock me afterwards if I did not do anything in return."

"Who said that?"

"I would be an easy prey to everyone; I should not do that."

"The Ring whispered that to you, Frodo?"

"I can't be a weakling."

"Is there any other way?"

"Making Merry feel what I have suffered is the only way."

"You are certain about this?"

"Yes."

"Think again, Frodo."

"I have."

"There won't be any turning back once you bring about the punishment."

"I know."

"Then we shall proceed."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond."

"Where would you want to do it?"

"Outside. In the balcony."

"Let us go there."

"Get Merry out."

"He is with the guards now. Look."

"He should be unclothed of his shirt."

"Done, Frodo."

"And tied between those posts."

"Arms out?"

"Arms out."

"How would you want to deliver the punishment?"

"I should scourge him with a belt like what he has done to me."

"How many times, Frodo?"

"Until he can't let out a scream anymore."

"He is ready."

"The belt, please."

The belt hit hard.

"One."

_Smack!_

"Two."

_Smack!_

"Three."

_Smack!_

"Scream, Merry!"

_Smack!_

"He is screaming, Frodo."

_Smack!_

"Scream!"

_Smack!_

"I hate you!"

_Smack!_

"You are my only friend!"

_Smack!_

"I hate you!"

_Smack!_

"I love you!"

_Smack!_

"You make me do this!"

_Smack!_

"Why, Merry? Why?"

_Smack!_

"I don't want to be weak!"

_Smack!_

"Oh, what am I doing?"

_Smack!_

"I want to stop this!"

_Smack!_

"But I don't want to look weak."

_Smack!_

"Stop me. Oh, please. Stop me!"

_Smack!_

"I am strong, I have to!"

_Smack!_

"My hand won't stop! Help me, please. Merry? Merry!"

_Smack!_

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!"

"Ssshh, Frodo. I understand you. I understand you now."

Elrond grasped Frodo's small hands in his while Frodo broke down, kneeling before the healer. Sobbing.

"Hush now, halfling. Get up. Get up, I say. Good. Now look me in the eye."

After several moments spent to help Frodo to his feet and another to force him to look into his eyes, Elrond brought Frodo's hands to his chest, saying, "You are a strong hobbit, Frodo. I have told you that. Do not listen to any other telling you otherwise. Do you understand?"

The blue eyes bored into Elrond's, flashing with his qualms and his sorrow. And tears. Frodo froze, seemingly unaware to Elrond's question.

"Do you understand, Frodo?" Elrond repeated.

His heart sank as Frodo shook his head and stuttered.

"I – I thought I was strong. I l-love my cousin Merry but It said – It said I was w-w-weak. Now, now I punished Merry. I struck him. I'm yet very weak!"

"Oh no, Frodo." Elrond released Frodo's fists and cupped his face. "You did not punish Merry. You never beat him. No one was harmed."

Frodo's eyes shone incomprehensively. Elrond took his hand and brought him back to his bed. The elf helped Frodo get into it and tucked him in.

"Close your eyes, Frodo, and listen to me carefully. You never thrashed Merry. None of that ever happened. You will not remember that you ever wanted to punish Merry. And you are strong, very strong. You _survived_, Frodo. And in the future you will never allow yourself to be lured by the Ring or anyone else to things you don't want to do.

Now sleep, little one. Rest your wearied flesh and soul. When you are awake later, you will see that peace shall come unto you yet again."

TBC

AN: What should I do to make you all reveal yourself? I love you forever for reading this, though!


	15. Memory

**Chapter 14 – Memory **

_"I got you, Mr. Frodo. No need to worry now."_

_"… can take him somewhere under a tree, Sam. You know he loves it there."_

_"I will, Gandalf, sir. I know that."_

_"… remember to not mention anything about what you heard and saw here, Samwise. He has no memory of it, I can assure you, but who knows…"_

_"I'll lock up my mouth, Lord Elrond."_

Words were coming and going as Frodo was drifting in and out of consciousness. Other times he was almost convinced that he was actually _walking_. He could feel a hand supporting his back and another grasping his arm tightly as if afraid he was going to tumbledown. Soft whispers were flowing into his ears, comforting him, encouraging him to keep moving. Then they halted at last, and his body was lowered.

Then he drifted out again.

Until now.

Suddenly Frodo felt the urge to open his eyes. He was not certain why but he felt strangely _refreshed_, - not only in body, but in mind. He no longer felt terrible about himself. There was no more of the burden that had seemed to weigh down on him for what seemed his entire life. No more curtains of haze swathing over his mind and his senses. He could nearly tell himself that he was _healed_.

Not that he forgot what had come upon him. Memories rushed into him again. Memories of Merry, the men, the wargs, beatings, and more beatings…

Yet Frodo could also place the memories of the events that came afterwards. Bilbo was once crying at the foot of Frodo's bed, looking aged and guilty. There was nothing else Frodo wanted to do but crawl out of his coverlet and approach him, tell him that he was all right. Yet he could not. He was still shrouded behind a thick fog of misunderstanding and trauma. He did not even realize he was no longer a captive, and at that time his mind still sought Merry, the only one that cared for him.

But there had been no Merry still. Pippin was present in his stead, and Frodo could also feel Sam and Gandalf, Elrond, a ranger, and the others. They were all there to comfort him and to tend to his injuries. Pippin had asked for clemency over and over. Frodo knew he barely responded to that but Pippin should have known that Frodo would forgive him. Pippin was far younger than he or Merry. It was no wonder the lad often slipped into doing something wrong when deprived of guidance. Pippin's circumstances were different from those of Merry, who was mature enough to tell good from ill. But even _Merry_ could slip. After all he was simply an ordinary hobbit. One should never demand too much from him.

Frodo let his mind wander in silence. He lay on the couch quietly, letting his soft blanket drape nonchalantly over his body. He cast his eyes around the lovely park adorned with lines of old Mallorn trees, their fallen leaves covering the ground like a carpet. The breeze floated around him, sending shivers down Frodo's spine with its chilling sensation, forcing him to clutch his cover tightly with his pale hands. The wind chilled him but Frodo rebuked the urge to submit to his quivering body. The draftiness helped him revive him, and for the first time in a long while, Frodo could breathe without restraint.

The hobbit threw glances now and again toward his dozing gardener that was sprawling in a plush armchair across from his couch. Frodo's face twisted in a tone of pity and concern, moving forward as if to wake Sam up, but thought the better of it. Sam must have been exhausted after days keeping guard beside his bed. The younger hobbit deserved sufficient rest for that. Frodo would be able to see to himself as long as Sam needed to sleep. Everything would be just fine. Nothing would dare to harm here, in the heart of Elrond's dwelling place, the one known as the House of Healing.

After all, he had been alone before this, hadn't he? No one had been with him to keep him safe. It was he and no one else. It was he that must take care of himself. After he was parted from Merry, that is.

Frodo stirred a little, brushing aside the blanket a bit, soundlessly, and dropped his feet one by one. Once he caught a movement from Sam's direction and sat still. He wanted to loosen the stiffness of his legs from being too long lying on the bed.

It was not an easy task – using his legs again. When Frodo had succeeded putting both feet flat on the floor, he immediately felt as if his heels were attacked by thousands of needles. He had almost let out a joggling shriek if he did not remember he was not alone. Frodo forced himself to step forward, ignoring the prickling sensation, going back inside. He had a mind on who he was seeking but he had no idea where to go. The features in this dwelling place were completely unknown to him.

A rustling noise from the back froze Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo? Where are you going?"

The departing hobbit turned around reluctantly.

"Nowhere, Sam," he sighed.

Sam rose abruptly and caught up with Frodo. He grasped his master's shoulders gently and steered him back to the couch.

"You need a rest, Mr. Frodo. And outside here is just perfect to do that."

Frodo groaned, planting his feet firmly to the ground. "I have enough rest, Sam. In fact, I'm tired of it," Frodo said grouchily. "And I'm tired people are fretting all the time about my well being." Frodo felt the beefy hands on his shoulders stiffen before they detached completely from him.

"We – we are concerned about you, Frodo. You've been through so much and suffered deeply. We--"

"I'm good now, Sam."

"—only want you to fully return to us."

Frodo sighed. "I know that, and I'm grateful for all your attention and care toward me but…" Sam jumped to Frodo's face as his master showed a sign of another movement, and brought Frodo's upper arms into his firm clutch.

"You're not going anywhere, Mr. Frodo," he said stubbornly, eyes squinting.

"Sam!" Irritation was apparent in Frodo's sharpening voice. "Am I being held against my will again? Let go of me."

"No, Mr. Frodo. Mr. Gandalf instructed me to keep you safe – and keep you safe I will."

"Why?" challenged Frodo, his body stiffening in Sam's hands, eyes wandering over his gardener's face, trying to place any dissent there.

-- which he just could not find. What existed were regret and grief. Frodo then realized that Sam had not responded to his query.

"Sam?" he asked again, his voice softening.

Sam's eyes flickered as if they just awoke from a long sleep. His hands dampened with sweat and soon they slipped off Frodo's arms. Sam licked his lips, feeling suddenly drained.

"M – Mr. Frodo, we just want to make sure nothing bad won't happen to you again. You're yet back to yourself again. You're not as strong as usual. Then there's Mr. Merry still around…"

It seemed like both hobbits flinched at Sam's last sentence: Sam at recalling Gandalf's words to him and Frodo at the sentence itself.

"What do you mean?" snapped the older hobbit. "Of course Merry will still be here, as long as I'm here, if I'm not mistaken. He promised to accompany me in the journey and while I'm not back yet, he won't be back either."

Sam touched Frodo's hand slowly. "You surely have the memory of what he's done to you, do you not, Mr. Frodo?" reminded Sam carefully. "How he has treated you dreadfully?" Looking at his master right now, Sam could not really grasp in what state of mind Frodo was actually in. Was he still in the state of denial in which he refused to remember or did he already fully understand of what had happened – if so, how did he actually receive it? Sam remembered just a moment ago how Frodo's eyes shone wildly, hand clutching a leather belt and lashing it ferociously over – empty air – while shouting and crying and weeping. Sam could not forget his puzzlement at first but Elrond's words during the event helped him understand and almost make him weep, too. His Mr. Frodo had drowned too deep in his suffering he managed to think of punishing his own flesh and blood. Sam was grateful the elven king had his own way in dealing with the abhorrent pull.

Now his master's eyes no longer held the feral rage. They had returned to their usual gentleness – and stubbornness that often made them look alert at all times.

Those pair of alert blueness shot back at Sam's brown ones right now.

"Merry was not himself," Frodo replied, short and cold, as if that explained everything. Deep down he wanted to forget the whole thing but he could not. Even his last slumber, the first peaceful sleep he had had, was still haunted by nightmarish memories. Yet there was something seemed to be missing from his mind. There was a piece that was supposed to be in Frodo's head but he could not grasp it. Somehow Frodo knew that this one memory was important yet he also felt that it was fine for him _not_ to remember. Moreover, he also _knew_ that he no longer held a grudge against Merry anymore, though he did not know how that came to be.

"Sam." Now it was Frodo that was holding Sam by the arms – then hugged him so tightly and surprisingly that Sam almost jumped if he was not fast encircled by Frodo. "Thank you. Thank you for everything you've done for me," he whispered in Sam's ear. Frodo let him go half reluctant and half eager. "You've been a best friend to help me recover." Frodo checked Sam's eyes. "But I have to go now. I have to find Merry. He has suffered as much as I have, being under the Ring's influence. He needs me, Sam."

With that Frodo circled Sam and left to the direction of Elrond's manor. Sam could only stare blankly, following Frodo with his uncomprehending eyes. It was beyond him to see how Merry could be worthy of his master's forgiveness.

TBC

**Coriandra**, thank you for reading! I'm afraid the answers to your questions should be answered by this chapter or the next one. Don't worry. I've finished that already.

Thank you, **FrodoBaggins87**. Hm, I guess I really soften up lately, huh? Looking forward to seeing you again.

**Freya**, it might be some kind of hallucination. Or under Elrond's spell…

My thanks still go to **_Aelfgifu_** for the beta.

And I guess, I really could use a word or two from you, you know…


	16. Breath and Memory

Chapter 15 – Breath and Memory 

Two pairs of weary and wary eyes followed Frodo's steps into the house from a balcony high above the porch. One pair drifted to the other and the owner sighed.

"What you were doing scared me, my friend," he said.

Elrond turned to his side, meeting Gandalf's sad expression.

"I thought it would have a bad effect on Frodo's torn soul. Him thrashing his own kin – he must never imagine to do such things in his life. Frodo is such a gentle hobbit. It would crush him if he found out he ever had such a wish to punish Merry in a hard way."

"I will make sure he shall never find out," Elrond tapped Gandalf warmly in his arm. "Besides," he turned around, sauntering back into his chamber. "It's not that I didn't think it might make his condition even worse when I decided to do that. Frodo himself in his nearly broken mind said he would punish every single person that has tortured him. I was torn in my predicament on what was best to do. But then I thought, since Frodo has been struck by the hardest of blows, the ordeal could only be warded off by a similarly hard undoing experience."

Elrond gazed over his shoulder at Gandalf he knew had trailed him inside, and continued, "I knew the punishment only happened in his mind, but he didn't. Frodo must think he had delivered it and now his soul is liberated. Frodo _does_ feel that he has been liberated though he might never be able to explain why and how. You can be certain, my dear friend, that he will never remember what he thinks he has done to Merry."

"I trust you," pronounced Gandalf almost in a whisper. "What more important is just whether the lad can return to how he used to be."

Elrond stared hard at Gandalf for a long time. "Frodo has gone through too much, Gandalf. _Too_ much for him to simply return."

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Merry halted in the midst of his pace, face contorted with misery, and then resumed his walk. He scrambled down on his knees, reaching out for the edge of the mattress on the bed where Pippin was lying down. His eyes were tightly shut.

Merry stroked the back of his hand tentatively over the soft skin of Pippin's cheek, stopped immediately as the younger hobbit's eyes fluttered open, and smiled down weakly. To his dismay Pippin flinched visibly. Merry swallowed his disappointment, withdrawing a little and speaking in a hushed tone.

"Pip?" he choked. "I've asked for apology, have I not?" He looked hurt. Every part of his body screamed his heartbreak. "I'm really sorry with whatever I've done." Merry's tears ran unchecked. "I… no. It doesn't matter." The hobbit hesitated for a moment and decided there was nothing more he could do to convince his cousin. He knew it was hard to forgive dreadful things he had done to Frodo and also Pippin. He knew though it was all because of the Ring. Merry arose and whirled around, starting to the vicinity of the door. He rubbed furiously at his face, and sobbed out the last of his tears.

Merry half expected to hear Pippin calling him to return and when he did not get that, a sigh of anguish marked his mixed feelings: wretchedness, abandonment – and a slight bit of anger. What more could Pippin ask of him? He knew he had stumbled once, yet, would he not get a second chance? Merry stepped out of the room with more hurt in his heart than before he went in.

Behind Merry, Pippin followed his leaving with half parted lips. He was no longer flinching. He did not even understand why he had done that in the first place. This was Merry, for the Shire's sake – his own cousin! The one he had known practically in his whole life. Merry had not a heart to hurt people. So whatever had come to pass must not have come from him. It was the Ring that had played the biggest role.

Nevertheless, Pippin often got bad dreams, remembrance of how Frodo had suffered in Merry's hands. It still stuck somewhere at the back of his head how Frodo had been broken; the sight of Frodo accepting spoonfuls of applesauce and small crumbs of bread from Merry in a defeated way still made Pippin's heart clench every once in a while.

Pippin had wanted to call out Merry's name, pleading him to come back. But his heart came in the way.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

It felt a bit awkward for Merry to walk back to his chamber unguarded after this whole time never having the chance to go on his own. There were always two elven guards that would simply stroll by him or take hold of him. But things had changed ever since he showed his profound penitence and his real face behind the influence of the Ring. Merry did not know what had happened with Frodo but the last time Merry had seen him he had been lying restlessly with Elrond draped his hand over Frodo's brow, the elf's eyes closed and from his lips one could heard he murmured something. Some other chants? Perhaps. But not according to Merry. It would sound more like a conversation between Elrond and Frodo though he could never hear Frodo's part of the dialogs.

Regardless of his sadness over Pippin's rejection, Merry could not be more contented with his situation right now – free and clean and … full. After _talking_ with Frodo, Elrond had sent his elven servants to his room with dishes full with fruits and sweets and elven waybread he would never touch had he not been that starving. Merry had stuffed everything that was served in front of him into his mouth and hiccoughed several times because he had forgotten to drink. In times like that he did not want to think of any punishment Elrond might give him. Merry knew he could not just get away with what he had done. There should be price to pay, and even though he shivered every time he thought about that, he did not want it to spoil his present contentedness.

Merry also tried to enjoy his freedom as much as he could before it was taken away from him. He wandered down the hall, devouring the unearthly sculptured along the wall and on all the arches looking out the stunning sceneries of the garden and down the valley in Rivendell. His bare feet brushed the smooth marbles of the floor, and his eyes almost could not catch the astounding glass paintings on the ceiling, him being too tiny to see things so high above him.

The hobbit sighed as he realized he had finally reached his room. His room was beautiful, too – for there was nothing here that was not. But these lovelies could not prevent him from grieving. Pippin had refused his peace offer while he was the only one Merry could count on. He closed the distance to his warg-sized bed and threw himself in the middle of it. He buried his face into the velvety pillow, not being able to hold back any longer. He sobbed his heart out, soaking the pillow with his relentless tears. If not Pippin, whom else could he call a friend? Who else could he trust to pour his grief and sorrow?

Merry did not even dare to think of Frodo.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

With timid gestures and hesitant steps, Frodo was following Merry from Pippin's room to his own. It broke Frodo to see Merry drowned in sorrow. He must come to his cousin as fast as he could and whisper it in his ear how he had forgiven him. Everything was over. Moreover, not only did he forgive him, Frodo also still regarded him as his most beloved cousin – and friend. Even more, Merry was a brother to him; Frodo had known the Brandybuck since he was born.

A creak at the door could not bring Merry to wakefulness. Frodo peeped through the small slit to find his cousin still sprawling on his abdomen in the middle of the huge cot. From his even breaths Frodo could see that Merry had fallen asleep, probably after weeping too much.

Frodo almost tiptoed to the bed so as not to disturb the sleep. He kneeled down and stretched himself onto the bed, reaching out a tentative hand to Merry's hair, and stroked it gently. At first there was no response from the other hobbit but as Frodo tried to turn Merry over, the eyes stirred open – and the mouth too.

"Frodo?" Merry's whisper almost caught in the throat. He gaped even more as he saw the smile across Frodo's face. Then just as what Pippin had done to him, he also flinched against Frodo's tender touch. "No, Frodo, I'm not worth it…"

"Ssh…" Frodo rubbed the tears off Merry's cheeks. "…'tis I, your most precious friend, Merry, am I not?" A smile almost formed in Merry when all of a sudden the Ring dangled out of Frodo's shirt, darkinging everybody's sight. And Merry recoiled even more, hurt shadowing his face and his voice tainted with fury.

"You're mocking me!" he thundered, making Frodo blanch. His face was contorted as if he was in pain.

"Merry, no," he stuttered weakly. "Please--" He was begging again just like in the past, and he was willing to do anything, or for Merry to do anything to him, as long as Merry could think of him as a friend again. Slowly Frodo slid down the bed to sit slumped on the floor, head bowed down, fists clenched and unclenched fighting over sobs that threatened to break out.

Merry was aghast at the turn of the situation. He had been certain that Frodo was deriding him with what he was saying and the fact that he was wearing the Ring. But looking at Frodo right now, he could not be sure anymore. Frodo was utterly trembling at the accusation and from the look at it, Merry could see that Frodo had not been completely healed. There was still some confusion in his head, which made Merry feel even worse.

"Oh, Frodo!" Merry gathered Frodo back to the bed, rocking the delicate frame in his arms. "I didn't mean to say that! I thought you were jesting when you said you're my most precious friend."

"But you are that, Merry, aren't you?" Frodo looked up to his younger cousin as a lad to his father.

Merry closed his eyes as he felt a stab into his heart. _What should I do to make you return to yourself?_ Merry murmured to himself. He tightened his embrace and sensed a slight struggle from Frodo, who was supposed to be his older cousin, his leader, his ideal, and not this frail, clinging-on-to-others hobbit. _What have I done?_

"Merry…"

"Frodo," cut Merry. "Have you really forgiven me?" Frodo stared at him, puzzled.

"Why yes, Merry."

"Then why did you still mention things about you being a friend of me or vice versa?"

Frodo's eyes started to glimmer. "You don't want to--?"

Merry was abrupt in his reply. "No, of course I still want to be your friend. But Frodo, you have to realize that you're also my older cousin. You're supposed to take care of me now that we're far from home."

Apart from his prayer that Frodo would not turn to say who was to be blamed for the awkwardness, Merry felt sure that his cousin would not think as far as that. His mind was still befuddled for such thoughts.

Merry was right.

Thus no such thing came out of Frodo's lips. Either he was really irredeemable or utterly pure.

"I _am_ your older cousin, Merry," Frodo said sweetly. "You can always be sure that I will always take care of you. You shall worry not that I will leave you for I'm also your friend, the closest. Bother not about Pippin or Sam being here. They cannot take the place of you. Fear nothing."

Merry was pained to hear it. Did they not come still from the wrecked part of Frodo's mind -- coming from acts of torments and words imposed on him from him, Merry?

He looked closely into Frodo's affectionate eyes, clutching both his upper arms. "Frodo, that's not what I mean. But whether you--"

Frodo chuckled a little, eyes moving down.

"You must think I'm being senseless, Merry. Believe me I'm not. I clearly remember what has happened, what _you've_ done. And I've let it off, Merry, how many times should I say that? Do you not believe me anymore?" Frodo sounded small, and hurt albeit a little. He curled up his body now and pressed against Merry. The latter reacted rather belatedly and that made Frodo crouched even deeper. "M-e-r-r-y…"

Merry could tell Frodo was nearly frantic, causing him to panic as well. He fastened his hug without thinking and muttered, "I do… I do! Oh, Frodo, I do believe you."

He could not comprehend any of this. Frodo did remember that Merry's deeds were wrong yet he still behaved the way he was when he was captive, submitting to whatever his captor wanted him to do or to say. Merry was shaking himself. Those people had tried so much: Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Aragorn, Bilbo, but that seemed to mean so little for Frodo's coherence. Merry rested his chin on top of Frodo's head and spoke as if in a dream while tears were running slowly down his face, dribbling through his lips and jaws to seep into Frodo's hair.

"I love you, Frodo," he hummed. "I'm sorry for everything. What should I do to get you back? What do you want to do to me, Frodo? What punishment do you want to impart on me? I'm willing to take it all, Frodo, please!"

Merry sensed a movement and he looked down, encountering Frodo's inquiring eyes.

"Punishment, Merry? I don't want to punish you. I've forgiven you!"

Oh, that vicious circle again, Merry groaned. He of course did not know that Frodo had actually _punished_ him even though it was only in his mind. Merry had left the room when that happened. But Frodo could not enlighten him for Elrond had made him forget. What was left were two less sensible hobbits cleaved to each other.

"But I do want to do something for you, Merry!" The hobbit tensed as he saw almost mischievous glint in Frodo's eyes.

"What's that?" he croaked. Frodo smiled widely.

"I want to make you fresh and relaxed. You said you wanted me to take care of you. Now how about a bath with your dearest friend Frodo?"

"A – a bath?" Merry gasped.

"Right!" Frodo jumped out of the bed. "I have never given you anything, Merry, while you've done so much as to care for me all this time. You don't give me up while the others do--"

_Not again, Frodo!_

"And I did love the bath you gave me in the wild, Merry! That felt so – so wonderful, and comforting."

_Oh_, Merry sniffled. _That cannot be. That was me when I was still under Ring-lust. He cannot enjoy it. He should not!_

But in fact Frodo did. That was one of the moments in which he felt secured, no pain, no threat. And he was with his Merry.

Frodo took Merry's hand and pulled it to him. "Come, Merry. We will go to a bath."

"Where?" Merry asked in a hollow voice. He knew he had been taken to a shower when he first got to Rivendell and he was sure Frodo had, too. But he could not tell where it was exactly and he was certain Frodo could not either.

"I know not," chirped Frodo. "But we can find it. We can ask."

_To whom?_

Frodo dragged Merry out of the room such in a hurry and they almost collided with Sam, who apparently had been following Frodo.

"Sam!" called Frodo gleefully and he was welcomed by a frown on his gardener's brow. "Can you show us a bathroom here, my good man?"

Sam stuttered in his reply. "Bathroom, Mr. Frodo? Are you going to take a bath? I – I think there's one beside Mr. Merry's chamber."

Frodo waved his hand dismissively. "Not for me, Sam. It's for Merry. But I want to help him take one." Sam's mouth went open without him realizing it. "It's right here, is it not, Sam? Why, thank you very much!" And without so much as a nod to acknowledge the Gamgee's presence any more, Frodo escorted Merry to the bathroom's door.

Merry stared helplessly at Sam, who gazed back with similarly questioning look lined with a trifling vengeance. But neither could do anything as Merry was then taken inside. shortly afterwards Frodo's head popped out.

"Oh, Sam? Would you send someone to fill up the tub inside here? I'd really appreciate it."

He had vanished behind the closed door before Sam had the chance to respond.

To Be Concluded


	17. Merry is Maytime

"Punishment, Merry? I don't want to punish you. I've forgiven you!"

Oh, that vicious circle again, Merry groaned. He of course did not know that Frodo had actually _punished_ him even though it was only in his mind. Merry had left the room when that happened. But Frodo could not enlighten him for Elrond had made him forget. What was left were two less sensible hobbits cleaved to each other.

"But I do want to do something for you, Merry!" The hobbit tensed as he saw almost mischievous glint in Frodo's eyes.

"What's that?" he croaked.

Frodo smiled widely.

"I want to make you fresh and relaxed. You said you wanted me to take care of you. Now how about a bath with your dearest friend Frodo?"

"A – a bath?" Merry gasped.

xxx

**Aria e Memoria – Chapter 16 – Merry is May-time **

Summary: Frodo bathed him, lulled him, coddled him, but what Merry saw was different.

For longer than a moment Frodo froze in his place, eyes widening in awe as he was taking in the beauty beyond beauty of the voluminous bath chamber within which he and Merry were. Two broad windows were stretched from the floor reaching up to the ceiling, facing out to the valley, which was covered with dense forests. Frodo moved to the end of the room to look out from the window, and his breath caught when his sight perceived the thread-like spectacle of the Bruinen River far afield below him. Frodo's hand reached for the glass panel as if he were to touch the foamy water he recalled was within his reach when he was carried aloft by a warg. Only his hands had been tied behind his back so grazing into the water had been a mere wistful thinking.

Sighing deep in grief-stricken reminiscence and being reminded at how he had been lucky for living through the nightmare as he turned back, Frodo was still heedless of the presence of another being with him, Merry. His eyes now swept around, first at the soft milky-white curtains draping on each side of each window, then to the short drawer and mirror hanging above it on the left hand side of the room, all embellished with golden leaves and vines ornaments. And eventually, Frodo set eyes on the piece in the middle of the room, the one that had been the purpose of his coming to this chamber. A bath. A hefty bath made of marble. It looked so opulent and shiny.

And roomy.

Frodo's eyes sparkled as he turned to Merry for the first time, almost predatory in Merry's opinion, with an unspoken _"That will be enough for us both!"_

Merry flinched due to an inexplicable reason, face contorted as though he had just received a physical blow, and all of a sudden everything seemed to spin and blur. Then he was not in the same room where Frodo was, yet his cousin was still with him.

_He was back to the dank foul-smelled back room in a nameless inn in Bree. He was not seeing it but somehow he knew that on the other side of the wall there was a dilapidated wooden chair and some scattered length of ropes he had used earlier to bind his cousin's arms and legs. Sprawling forgotten several feet away on the floor was his leather belt with which he had lashed Frodo, making him bleed and breaking him. Then he remembered dragging that cousin of his with Pippin here, where he had put together a bucket of icy water. There was some more _lessons_ he wished Frodo to learn, or simply to compel him to submit even more. To drown him with a new realization of who owned whom. Who owned _what_. Or in Merry's contemptuous words, who _loved_ whom._

_But looking about, Merry could not find Pippin. The bucket of water was still there, as well as Frodo. Merry realized something uncanny, though. It was not Frodo who was kneeling down before him. It was _him_ who was down on his knees, and Frodo was standing, looming over him, and leering cruelly at his cousin. Merry gasped and began to tremble. He raised his hands to – to do whatever he could do to deter what Frodo intended to bring upon to him, only to find that his arms had been wrenched backwards and tied securely. His eyes shot wide, and he let out a scream._

_"No, Frodo. NO!"_

The tense shriek started Frodo and he grasped his cousin's upper arms. "Merry, what is it?" He shook the other hobbit but the latter seemed to be lost and unreachable. Merry's eyes were not vacant but full of terror, yet they still did not really _look_ at Frodo. The Baggins immediately dived into panic himself because no matter hard he clenched Merry, the Brandybuck remained stiff and unyielding. Frodo stared wildly around, huffing desperately, and closed his eyes in a silent plea to Eru to help him. Shifting agitatedly, Frodo veered to wrap Merry into his embrace. At first he thought Merry would not budge but then he found his cousin had turned limp.

Frodo brought Merry closer to the tub, back to his initial intent to bestow his dear one with a nice, invigorating bath. He could not tell why Merry was behaving strangely but he hoped the bath would help the younger hobbit retrieve his usual self. Frodo flinched despite himself at the thought. _His usual self_ – undoubtedly the one Frodo got to be familiar with and to love.

Half carrying a flaccid figure almost the same height and weight as he – or mayhap even heavier, had left Frodo breathless. He stood Merry with the Brandybuck's rear thighs leaning against the cold edge of the tub, relieved that it was fabricated for the elves so it was quite high for the hobbits. Standing close before his cousin, still full with wonder, Frodo struggled to keep Merry standing. "Merry, oh, what's happening to you?" He let Merry's head loll forward and rest on his shoulder. It seemed that now he was dozing, or unconscious. Frodo had meant to get the chair in front of the mirror to seat Merry but it seemed as though he was stuck with him. Frodo could barely move, and Merry felt heavier every time. Eventually Frodo decided to get to the action right there and then. If Merry did not allow himself to feel comfortable or to let Frodo know what had come upon him, then Frodo had better get Merry into the water without more ado. Frodo glanced into the softly rippled surface of the water, feeling thankful that Sam had immediately seen to it that his master got what he wanted: a bath full of warm water. His hand inching slowly to Merry's shirtfront, Frodo started to unfasten the buttons.

_Merry never felt Frodo's firm but affectionate grip on his arms. He could not see concern shadow his cousin's lovely eyes or sense it through the arms holding him close. In Merry's mind eyes Frodo was still standing over his bound, kneeling form, and now moving forward to him, a hand stretching out, swaying up only to descend as flash as a lightning, slapping Merry square on his left cheek fiercely._

The Brandybuck rocked and crumpled to his side, landing hard upon the uneven ground of the inn's chamber, chafing the outer part of Merry's right arm. The hobbit sobbed loudly, pleading and begging for Frodo to spare him before his pride silenced him and biting his lower lip, Merry folded his thighs close to his body, trying to curl up but in vain for the trussed up hands behind his back. He dared not look up, which had seemed to infuriate Frodo even more. Unbeknownst to Merry, a hand shot down, grabbing a tuft of his hair forcing him up back to a kneeling position.

_"Stay!" snarled Frodo curtly. When Merry made to move backwards, Frodo's vise-like claw squeezed Merry's throat. "Don't you dare…"_

Merry rolled his eyes up a little, and sniffle, croaking out a "I won't – please…" He saw Frodo nodded with satisfaction, and reached for the bowl to get the water, and doused Merry before the once Ring-rapt hobbit had the chance to gulp a lungful of air.

Frodo's eyes were as big as a saucer when all of a sudden Merry begun to twist and turn as he started to undress him. It was such a contrast with his condition not half a moment ago when the hobbit was as limp as a rag doll. He made Frodo unable to complete his job and grab him instead, pulling him into his arms again.

"Merry, stop it! I was just to help you remove your clothes before you get into the bath. Merry!" Frodo glanced at his cousin's eyes, now wild with fear, identical to how they were some time ago. Frodo frowned and shook his head slowly. Merry's manners were beyond his comprehension at all, and now the hobbit's mouth gapped open and he made a sound as if he were drowning and incapable of breathing. The hobbit struggled for some time more but he was wearing out fast so now Frodo could easily manhandle him and after all clothes had been stripped off of Merry, all Frodo should do was just laying his cousin into the bath.

"There," murmured Frodo, coddling Merry and ever so softly resting his head onto the hard rim of the tub. Frodo's smile shone across the Ring-bearer's content face, and noticing that Merry was looking at him, no matter how impassive the eyes were, Frodo moved and stroked the other hobbit's cheek lovingly. 'You will love it, Merry," purred Frodo, his eyes roaming at his younger cousin's body, and he detected Merry's stiff posture.

"Ah," Frodo shook his head. "You won't be like this once this is over, Merry." And he turned and ambled away to the vicinity of the drawer, sighing happily as he saw what was in it. There were countless numbers of small decanters of bath oil in it. Frodo took one of them and brought it close to his nostrils to sniff at the fragrance and he smiled. "Vanilla. So sweet." Frodo squinted at Merry, who was still lying motionless in the tub.

"You know," Frodo contemplated. "I should've prepared the water first. I'm sorry, Merry. I should've put the oil and bubbled the soap before I got you to the water." The hobbit shifted his attention to those tiny bottles again, took the vanilla flavour and picked two more after carefully choosing the fragrance, popping open the soft buds of the cover of each flask while trying to remember the use of each scent. Frodo walked back to Merry, almost bouncing with joviality, after grabbing a piece of washcloth from the drawer as well.

The Baggins, who acted rather strangely than he usually did, even compared to the days when he was still in Bag End, kneeled beside the tub and began pouring in the content of each decanter. First, rose.

"'Tis to dispel all the knotted muscles you have, Merry. Rose is very good to bring comfort."

Next, lavender.

"More so, so that you feel anxious no more. I need you to forget everything you've done to me, Merry, and to stop getting disheartened by the memory of it. Lavender is the best."

And lastly, the vanilla.

Frodo stooped closer to Merry's ear, a hand lifting high while pouring the oil into the water about Merry's legs, whispered softly, "Remember me, Merry. Remember me when I was still in Brandy Hall. When you were a mere lad and I was your big _Fwodo_. You couldn't say my name proper, Merry, and we both used to play by the pond in the garden. You would shriek gleefully every time I tickled you and I would laugh and laugh." Frodo dabbed a tear that was unexpectedly trickling with his index finger. "You were the only one who could avert my mind from thinking of my parents. I love you, Merry. I've loved you since those times. Don't you ever think…"

_"Merry!"_

_The small hobbit crawled out of the pond, coughing and spurting water out from his nose and mouth, eyes reddening, and for some time unable to talk at all. Merry was on his hands and knees, struggling to draw air into his chest. "Fwodo…" He bleated weakly._

_His older cousin was by his side in an instant, shame and remorse shadowing his ashen face. "Oh, Merry, forgive me! I must've been dozing off while I should've been watching over you." He patted the part between Merry's shoulder blades to help him let out all the water. The Brandybuck winced at the sharp pain in his chest, coughed some more, and the fit eventually subsided. He looked up at Frodo's sky-blue eyes._

_"Not you," Merry stuttered in his small voice. "I – I walked around while you were not looking. That made it my fault." He plopped down on the grass, leaning into Frodo, his small legs splaying across Frodo's thighs, and his arms made it to wrap around Frodo's upper body. "I'm so sorry, Fwodo. I'm so sorry." The sniff and sobs seemed to be fully unbefitting, since he was the one who had just been very close to drowning. Or mayhap they came from the relief of being spared from danger._

_Yet that was not what Merry felt. Or did not feel. It was just… everything seemed like floating as if he did not belong here. As though he had just experienced something in a different time and space, and his cousin, Frodo, did not act like himself at all. It was true that he was with Frodo and Frodo had laid his hand on him as well, but in a way that was far removed from the way he soothed and cuddled Merry just now._

_Merry had also felt as if he was unable to breathe, but that was not because he drowned in a pond behind Brandy Hall. In fact, he had not been anywhere near his dwelling at all…_

_A hand smoothed his hair and Merry closed his eyes. Oh, he cared not. He cared not if he was not where he had been or if he could not make sense of what was happening with him or with his mind. He felt safe and loved – that was what mattered most._

_"Merry." A whisper was calling his name, and his eyes fluttered open. There was Frodo, his most beloved cousin, and he had a stem of a rose in his hand. Where did that come from? Frodo brought the flower to his face. "Smell it. Smell the sweet scent of it, Merry. I know you love roses."_

Merry nodded and sniffled deeply. He did love roses. They brought tranquility into his mind. And he drifted away into a peaceful slumber.

Frodo could see that Merry was not as tense as he had been, and for that he was grateful. Merry needed not be, and he was not supposed to be scared of Frodo, of all people, or drenched in his own guilt. Frodo realized Merry might have nightmares from the times when he had been consumed by his yearning for the Ring just like Frodo having been plagued by the dread and incomprehension toward Merry. Easing away the crinkles on Merry's brow with the wetted cloth, Frodo hummed a tune usually sang to him by Bilbo when he was still a child.

_Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!_

_Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!_

_The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;_

_Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting._

_Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!_

_Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!_

_The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!_

_Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!_

_Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!_

_Fall Moon! Dark be the land!_

_Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!_

_Hushed be all water, till dawn at hand!_

Frodo glanced out of the window and his eyes softened. It may not be dawn and the day's light of the Sun seemed too dazzling as it descended onto the sheer terrain of the valley. Still the light was soaked up by the trees, leaving a more somber glow that breached into Frodo's understanding – brittle still – mind. He wiped over Merry's face, his closed lids, small and delicate nose, silken cheeks, and his slightly parted lips, breathing in the alluring aroma of the mixed scents.

Love.

That was all what one needed to forgive another.

Merry is May-time 

Now was October, but he knew they both could work it out together and turned it to May. With a loving gesture Frodo bent forward, brushing his lips to Merry's damp and sweet-smelling forehead. Then with a determination to complete the task in hand, Frodo proceeded to his cousin's exposed throat, lean shoulders, lanky arms…

fin

I can't believe this is just the second series of mine that is completed! OK. I promise, promise, promise to continue the others.

Would like to thank my forever beta, Aelfgifu, for being there for me always.

And to my lovely readers and those who took the trouble to give me comments and feedback. I treasure them so much!

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Thank you very much for your support! This would not have continued if it hadn't been because of you!

My wettest kiss and tightest hug,

Iorhael


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